CAXTON'S BOOK: 



A COLLECTION OF 



Essays, Poems, Tales and Sketches. 



BY THE LATE 



W. H. RHODES. 



EDITED BY DANIEL O'CONNELL. 






SAN FRANCISCO: 
A. L. BANCROFT AND COMPANY 

1876. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, 

By SUSAN RHODES, 

In the Ofilce of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



San Francisco: 
A. L. Bancroft and Company, 

PRINTERS AND BINDtBS. 



PREFACE. 



rr^HE sketches and poems in this volume were written 
-^ at a time when the author was engaged in the 
practice of a hiborious profession. It was the inten- 
tion of Mr. Rhodes to collect them from the various 
newspapers and periodicals in which they had appeared, 
and publish them in book-form whenever he could ob- 
tain a respite from his arduous duties. But before he 
carried out his long-cherished object he died, in the 
prime of his manhood and the ripeness of his literary 
life. Many of his poems were written for the monthly 
gatherings of the Bohemian Club. There, when Cax- 
ton's name was announced, his literary friends thronged 
about him, confident of the rich treat the brain of their 
beloved poet had provided for them. His Avit was keen 
and sparkling, without a shade of malice; and many an 
anecdote, that began with some delightful absurdity, 
closed in a pathos that showed the great versatility of 
Caxton's genius. The Case of Summerfield, which is 
perhaps the most ingenious of the tales in that peculiar 
vein, was widely copied and warmly praised for the 
originality of its plan and the skill of its execution. 
The editor of this work has observed, as far as lay in 



4 Preface. 

Lis power, the intention of the author in the selection 
of those compositions which Mr. Ehodes had put aside 
for compilation. With such a mass and variety of mate- 
rial (for Caxton had been a busy worker) it was difficult 
to select from productions all of which were excellent. 
Few liberties have been taken with them; for, indeed, 
Caxton was himself so conscientious in the arrangement 
and correction of his manuscript, that, with the excep- 
tion of some slight and unimportant alterations, this 
book goes before his friends and the public in the same 
order as the author would have chosen had he been 
spared to perform the task. 



In Memoriam. 



AT the time when, according to custom, Mr. Rhodes's 
death was formally announced to the several 
Courts of Record in San Francisco, one of the learned 
Judges urged the publication of his writings in some 
form which would give the bar a permanent memo- 
rial of one of its most esteemed members, and to 
them their proper place in American literature. This 
has been accomplished by the present volume. It is 
sincerely to be hoped that Avhile it willlargelyadd to Mr. 
Rhodes's reputation, it may also serve to furnish a most 
interesting family some substantial aid in the struggle 
with life, from which the beloved husband and tender 
father has unhappily been removed. 

William Henry Rhodes was born July 16, 1822, in 
Windsor, North Carolina. His mother died when he 
was six years old, and his father, Col. E. A. Rhodes, 
sent him to Princeton, New Jersey, to be educated 
at the seat of learning established there. Col. Rhodes 
was subsequently appointed United States Consul at 
Galveston, Texas, and without completing his college 
course, the sou followed his father to his new home. 
There he diligently pursued his studies. He found 
many young men like himself, ambitious and zealous 
in acquiring information, and these he associated with 
himself in literary and debating clubs, where the most 



6 In Memo7'iam. 

important matters of natural science and political econ- 
omy were discussed. The effect of this self-bestowed 
education was most marked. It remained with him all 
his life. He was thoroughly versed in the political his- 
tory of the countr}^ and possessed an amount of knowl- 
edge concerning the career, motives and objects of pol- 
itics, parties and public men, which, had he ever chosen 
to embark in public life, would have made him distin- 
guished and successful. No one ever discussed with 
him the questions connected with the theory of our 
government without a thorough respect for the sin- 
cerity of his convictions, and the ability with which 
they were maintained. He was, in theory, a thorough 
partisan of the Southern political and constitutional 
school of ideas, and never abandoned them. But he 
advocated them without passion or apparent prejudice, 
and at all times shrunk from active connection with 
politics as a trade. He Avas an idealist in law, in 
science and government, and perhaps his early train- 
ing, self-imposed and self-contained, had much to do 
with his peculiarities. 

In 1844, he entered Harvard Law School, where he 
remained for two years. Here, as at home among his 
young friends, he was a master-spirit and leader. He 
was an especial favorite of his instructors; Avas noted 
for his studious and exemplary habits, while his genial 
and courteous manners won the lasting friendship of 
his classmates and companions. His fondness for weav- 
ing the problems of science with fiction, which became 
afterwards so marked a characteristic of his literary 
ejBforts, attracted the especial attention of his professors; 
and had Mr. Khodes devoted himself to this then novel 
department of letters, he would have become, no doubt, 
greatly distinguished as a Avriter; and the great master 



In Memoriam. 7 

of scientific fiction, Jules Verne, would have found tlie 
field of bis e£forts already sown and reaped by the young 
Southern student. But his necessities and parental 
choice, conspired to keep him at "the lawless science 
ofthelaAv;" and literature became an incident of life, 
rather than its end and aim. He never really loved the 
law. He rather lived by it than in it. He became a 
good lawyer, but was an unwilling practitioner. He 
understood legal principles thoroughly. He loved the 
higher lessons of truth and justice, of right and wrong, 
fas et nefas, which they illustrated; but he bent himself 
to the necessary details of professional life — to the 
money-getting part of it — with a peculiar and con- 
stantly increasing reluctance. The yoke of labor galled 
him, and always more severely. An opportunity to 
speak and write what was most pleasing to his taste, 
which set him free as a liberated prisoner of thought, 
his untrammeled and wandering imagination extrava- 
gantly interweaving scientific principles, natural forces, 
and elemental facts, in some witch's dance of fancy, 
where he dissolved in its alchemy, earth, air and water, 
and created a world of his own, or destroyed that be- 
neath his feet, was of more value to him, though it 
brought him no gain, than a stiff cause in courts which 
bound him to dry details of weary facts and legal propo- 
sitions, though every hour of his time bestowed a golden 
reward. 

His early professional life was passed in Galveston. 
He was ineasurably successful in it, and won many 
friends by his gallant and chivalrous advocacy of the 
causes intrusted to him. His personal popularity ele- 
vated him to a Probate Judgeship in Texas. This office 
he filled with honor; and at the expiration of his term, 
he returned, after a brief sojourn in New York, to his 



8 hi Memoriam. 

native state and town, where lie practiced his profession 
until 1850. In this year he caught the inspiration of 
adventure in the new El Dorado, and sailed for Califor- 
nia. From that time he continued a citizen of this 
State. He was widely known and universally respected. 
He practiced his profession with diligence; but mind 
and heart were inviting him to the life and career of a 
man of letters; and he was every day sacrificed to duty, 
as he esteemed it. He was too conscientious to become 
indifferent to his clients' interests : but he had no ambi- 
tion for distinction as a jurist. He was utterly indiffer- 
ent to the profits of his labors. He cared nothing for 
money, or for those who possessed it. His real life and 
real enjoyments were of a far different sort; and his 
genius was perpetually bound to the altar, and sacrificed 
by a sense of obligation, and a pride which never per- 
mitted him to abandon the profession for which he was 
educated. Like many another man of peculiar mental 
qualities, he distrusted himself where he should have 
been. most confident. The writer has often discussed 
with Mr. Rhodes his professional and literary life, 
urged him to devote himself to literature, and endeav- 
ored to point out to him the real road to success. But 
he dreaded the venture; and like a swift-footed blooded 
horse, fit to run a course for a man's life, continued on 
his way, harnessed to a plow, and broke his heart in 
the harness! 

William Henry Rhodes will long be remembered by 
his contemporaries at the Bar of California as a man of 
rare genius, exemplary habits, high honor, and gentle 
manners, with wit and humor unexcelled. His writings 
are illumined by powerful fancy, scientific knowledge, 
and a reasoning power which gave to his most weird 
imaginations the similitude of truth and the apparel of 



In Memoriam. g 

facts. Nor did tliey, nor do they, do him justice. He 
could have accomplished far more had circumstances 
been propitious to him. That they were not, is and will 
always be a source of regret. That, environed as he 
was, he achieved so much more than his fellows, has 
made his friends always loyal to him while living, and 
fond in their memories of him when dead. We give 
his productions to the world with satisfaction, not 
unmingled with regret that what is, is only the faint 
echo, the unfulfilled promise of Avhat might have been. 
Still, may we say, and ask those who read these sketches 
to say with us, as they lay down the volume: ^^ Habet 
e)iim jastam venerationem, quicquid excellit.'" 

W. H. L. B. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

PREFACE 3 

7^ MEMORIAM 5 



I. TEE CASE OF SUMMERFIELD 13 

II. THE 3fEEC HANTS' EXCHANGE 3-i 

III. THE DESERTED SCHOOLHO USE 37 

IV. FOR AN ALBUM. 50 

Y. PHASES IN THE LIFE OF JOHN POLLEXFEN. . . 52 

VI. THE LOVE KNOT 9-4 

VII. THE AZTEC PRINCESS 95 

VIII. THE MOTHER'S EPISTLE 154 

IX. LEGENDS OF LAKE BIGLER 156 

X. ROSENTHAL'S ELAINE 171 

XI. THE TELESCOPIC EYE 175 

XII. THE EMERALD ISLE 191 

XIII. THE EARTH'S HOT CENTER 199 



1 2 Contents. 



PAGE 

XIV. WILBEY'S DEEAM. 212 

XV. WHITHER WARD 218 

XVI. OUR WEDDING DAY 229 

XVII. THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW 231 

XVIII. A PAIR OF MYTHS 233 

XIX. THE LAST OF HIS RACE 247 

XX. THE TWO GEORGES 249 

XXI. MASONRY. 260 

XXII. POLLOCirS EUTHANASIA 262 

XXIII. SCIENCE, LITER A TURE, AND ART D URING THE 

FIRST HALF OF THE NINETEENTH CEN- 
TURY. 264 

XXIV. THE ENROBING OF LIBERTY 276 

XXV. A CAKE OF SOAP 279 

XXVI. THE SUMMERFIELD CASE 280 

XXVII. THE A VITOR 291 

XXVIII. LOST AND FOUND 293 



CAXTON'S BOOK. 



I. 

THE CASE OF SUMMERFIELD. 

THE following mauusciipt was found among tlie 
effects of the late Leonidas Parker, in relation to 
one Gregory Summerfield, or, as lie was called at the 
time those singular events first attracted public notice, 
"The Man with a Secret." Parker was an eminent 
lawyer, a man of firm will, fond of dabbling in the 
occult sciences, but never allowing this tendency to 
interfere with the earnest practice of his profession. 
This astounding narrative is prefaced by the annexed 
clipping from the "Auburn Messenger" of November 1, 
1870: 

A few days since, we called public attention to the singu- 
lar conduct of James G. Wilkins, justice of the peace for the 
"Caj^e Horn" district, in this county, in discharging with- 
out trial a man named Parker, who was, as we still think, 
seriously implicated in the mysterious death of an old man 
named Summerfield, who, our readers will probably remem- 
ber, met so tragical an end on the line of the Central Pacific 
Railroad, in the month of October last. "We have now to 
record another bold outrage on public justice, in connection 
with the same afi'air. The grand jury of Placer County has 
just adjourned, without finding any bill against the person 
named above. Not only did they refuse to find a true bill, 
or to make any presentment, but they went one step further 



14 Caxtoii s Book. 

toward the exoneration of the offender: they specially ignored 
the indictnieut "vvhich our district attorney deemed it his 
duty to present. The main facts in relation to the arrest and 
subsequent discharge of Parker may be summed up in few 
words : 

It appears that, about the last of October, one Gregory 
Summerfield, an old man nearly seventy years of age, in 
company with Parker, took passage for Chicago, via the 
Pacific Eailroad, and about the middle of the afternoon 
reached the neighborhood of Cape Horn, in this county. 
Nothing of any special importance seems to have attracted 
the attention of any of the passengers toward these persons 
until a few moments before passing the dangerous curve in 
the track, overlooking the North Fork of the American 
River, at the place called Cape Horn. As our readers are 
aw\are, the road at this j)oint skirts a precipice, with rocky 
i:)er2Dendicular sides, extending to the bed of the stream, 
nearly seventeen hundred feet below. Before passing the 
curve, Parker was heard to comment upon the sublimity of 
the scenery they were approaching, and finally requested the 
old man to leave the car and stand upon the open platform, 
in order to obtain a better view of the tremendous chasm 
and the mountains just beyond. The two men left the car, 
and a moment afterwards a cry of horror was heard by all 
-the passengers, and the old man was observed to fall at 
least one thousand feet u2:)on the crags below. The train 
was stopped for a few moments, but, fearful of a collision if 
any considerable length of time should be lost in an un- 
availing search for the mangled remains, it soon moved on 
again, and proceeded as swiftly as jDOssible to the next 
station. There the miscreant Parker was arrested, and con- 
veyed to the office of the nearest justice of the peace for 
examination. We understand that he refused to give any 
detailed account of the transaction, onl}' that "the deceased 
either fell or was thrown off from the moving train." 

The examination was postponed until the arrival of Park- 
er's counsel, O'Connell & Kili^atrick, of Grass Valley, and 
after they reached Cape Horn not a single word could be 
extracted from the prisoner. It is said that the inquisition 
was a mere farce; there being no witnesses present except 
one lady passenger, who, with commendable spirit, volun- 
teered to lay over one day, to give in her testimony. "We 
also learn that, after the trial, the justice, together with the 



The Case of Sitminei'field. 15 

prisoner and liis counsel, were closeted in seci'et session for 
more than two hours; at the expiration of which time the 
judge resumed his seat upon the bench, and discharged the 
prisoner! 

Now, we have no desire to do injustice toward any of the 
jDarties to this singular transaction, much less to arm public 
sentiment against an innocent man. But we do affirm that 
there is, there must he, some j^rofound mystery at the bottom 
of this affair, and we shall do our utmost to fathom the secret. 

Yes, there is a secret and mystery connected with the 
disappearance of Summerfield, and the sole object of this 
communication is to clear it up, and place myself right 
in the public estimation. But, in order to do so, it 
becomes essentially necessary to relate all the circum- 
stances connected with my first and subsequent ac- 
quaintance with Summerfield. To do this intelligibly, 
I shall have to go back twenty-two years. 

It is well known amongst my intimate friends that I 
resided in the late Republic of Texas for many years 
antecedent to my immigration to this State. During 
the year 1847, whilst but a boy, and residing on the sea- 
beach some three or four miles from the city of Galves- 
ton, Judge Wheeler, at that time Chief Justice of the 
Supreme Court of Texas, paid us a visit, and brought 
Avith him a gentleman, whom he had known several years 
previously on the Sabine River, in the eastern part of 
that State. This gentleman was introduced to us by the 
name of Summerfield. At that time he was past the 
prime of life, slightly gray, and inclined to corpulency. 
He was of medium height, and walked providly erect, as 
though conscious of superior mental attainments. His 
face was one of those which, once seen, can never be 
forgotten. The forehead was broad, high, and pro- 
tuberant. It was, besides, deeply graven with wrinkles, 
and altogether was the most intellectual that I had 



1 6 Caxton s Book, 

ever seen. It bore some resemblance to that of Sir 
Isaac Newton, but still more to Humboldt or Webster. 
The eyes were large, deep-set, and lustrous with a light 
that seemed kindled in their own depths. In color they 
were gray, and whilst in conversation absolutely blazed 
with intellect. His mouth was large, but cut with all 
the precision of a sculptor's chiseling. He was rather 
pale, but, when excited, his complexion lit up with a 
sudden rush of ruddy flushes, that added something 
like beauty to his half-sad and half-sardonic expression. 
A word and a glance told me at once, this is a most 
extraordinary man. 

Judge Wheeler knew but little of the antecedents of 
Summerfield. He was of Northern birth, but of what 
State it is impossible to say definitely. Early in life he 
removed to the frontier of Arkansas, and pursued for 
some years the avocation of village schoolmaster. It 
was the suggestion of Judge Wheeler that induced him 
to read law. In six months' time he had mastered Sto- 
ry's Equity, and gained an important suit, based upon 
one of its most recondite principles. But his heart 
was not in the legal profession, and he made almost 
constant sallies into the fields of science, literature and 
art. He was a natural mathematician, and was the most 
profound and original arithmetician in the Southwest. 
He frequently computed the astronomical tables for the 
almanacs of New Orleans, Pensacola and Mobile, and 
calculated eclipse, transit and observations with ease 
and perfect accuracy. He was also deeply read in meta- 
physics, and wrote and published, in the old Demo- 
cratic Review for 1846, an article on the "Natural Proof 
of the Existence of a Deity," that for beauty of lan- 
guage, depth of reasoning, versatility of illustration, 
and compactness of logic, has never been equaled. 



The Case of Stmimerfield, ly 

The only other publication which at that period he had 
made, was a book that astonished all of his friends, 
both in title and execution. It was called "The Des- 
peradoes of the West," and purported to give minute 
details of the lives of some of the most noted duelists 
and blood-stained villains in the Western States. But 
the book belied its title. It is full of splendid descrip- 
tion and original thought. No volume in the language 
contains so many eloquent passages and such gorgeous 
imagery, in the same space. His plea for immortality, 
on beholding the execution of one of the most noted 
culprits of Arkansas, has no parallel in any living lan- 
guage for beauty of diction and power of thought. As 
my sole object in this communication is to defend my- 
self, some acquaintance with the mental resources of 
Summerfield is absolutely indispensable; for his death 
was the immediate consequence of his splendid attain- 
ments. Of chemistry he was a complete master. He 
describes it in his article on a Deity, above alluded to, 
as the " Youngest Daughter of the Sciences, born amid 
flames, and cradled in rollers of fire." If there were 
any one science to which he was more specially devoted 
than to any and all others, it was chemistry. But he 
really seemed an adept in all, and shone about every- 
where with equal lustre. 

Many of these characteristics were mentioned by 
Judge Wheeler at the time of Summerfield's visit to 
Galveston, but others subsequently came to my knowl- 
edge, after his retreat to Brownsville, on the banks of 
the Bio Grande. There he filled the position of judge 
of the District Court, and such was his position just 
previous to his arrival in this city in the month of Sep- 
tember of the past year. 

One day toward the close of last September, an old 
2 



1 8 Caxton s Book. 

man rapped at my office door, and on invitation came 
in, and advancing, called me by name. Perceiving that 
I did not at first recognize him, he introduced himself 
as Gregory Summerfield. After inviting him to a seat, 
I scrutinized his features more closely, and quickly 
identified him as the same person vidiom I had met 
tw^enty-two years before. He was greatly altered in ap- 
pearance, but the lofty forehead and the gray eye were 
still there, unchanged and unchangeable. He was not 
quite so stout, but more ruddy in complexion, and ex- 
hibited some symptoms, as I then thought, of intem- 
perate drinking. Still there was the old charm of in- 
tellectual superiority in his conversation, and I wel- 
comed him to California as an important addition to 
her mental wealth. 

It was not man}^ minutes before he requested a pri- 
yate interview. He followed me into my back office, 
carefully closed the door after him and locked it. We 
had scarcely seated ourselves before he inquired of me 
if I had noticed any recent articles in the newspapers 
respecting the discovery of the art of decomposing 
water so as to fit it for use as a fuel for ordinary pur- 
poses? 

I replied that I had observed nothing new upon that 
subject since the experiments of Agassiz and Professor 
Henry, and added that, in my opinion, the expensive 
mode of reduction would always prevent its use. 

In a few words he then informed me that he had 
made the discovery that the art was extremely simple, 
and the expense attending the decomposition so slight 
as to be insignificant. 

Presuming then that the object of his visit to me was 
to procure the necessary forms to get out a patent for 
the right, I congratulated him upon his good fortune. 



The Case of Summe^'-field. 19 

and was about to branch forth with a description of 
some of the great benefits that must ensue to the com- 
munity, when he suddenly and somewhat uncivilly re- 
quested me to "be silent," and listen to what he had 
to say. 

He began with some general remarks about the in- 
equality of fortune amongst mankind, and instanced 
liimself as a striking example of the fate of those men, 
who, according to all the rules of right, ought to be 
near the top, instead of at the foot of the ladder of 
fortune. " But," said he, springing to his feet with 
impulsive energy, "I have now the means at my com- 
mand of rising superior to fate, or of inflicting incalcu- 
hible ills upon the whole human race." 

Looking at him more closely, I thought I could 
detect in his eye the gleam of madness; but I remained 
silent and awaited further developments. But my scru- 
tiny, stolen as it Avas, had been detected, and he replied 
at once to the expression of my face: "No, sir; I am 
neither drunk nor a maniac; I am in deep earnest in all 
that I say; and I am fully prepared, by actual experi- 
ment, to demonstrate beyond all doubt the truth of all 
I claim. 

For the first time I noticed that he carried a small 
portmanteau in his hand; this he placed upon the table, 
unlocked it, and took out two or three small volumes, a 
pamphlet or two, and a small, square, wide-mouthed 
vial, hermetically sealed. 

I watched him with profound curiosity, and took note 
of his slightest movements. Having arranged his books 
to suit him, and placed the vial in a conspicuous posi- 
tion, he drew up his chair very closely to my own, and 
uttered in a half-hissing tone: "I demand one million 
dollars for the contents of that bottle; and you must 



20 Caxto7ts Book. 

raise it for me in the city of San Francisco within one- 
month, or scenes too terrible even for the imagination 
to conceive, will surely be witnessed by every living 
human being on the face of the globe." 

The tone, the manner, and the absurd extravagance 
of the demand, excited a faint smile upon my lips, 
which he observed, but disdained to notice. 

My mind was fully made up that I had a maniac to 
deal Avith, and I prepared to act accordingly. But I 
ascertained at once that my inmost thoughts were read 
by the remarkable man before me, and seemed to be 
anticipated by him in advance of their expression. 

"Perhaps," said I, "Mr. Summerfield, you would 
oblige me by informing me fully of the grounds of your 
claim, and the nature of your discovery." 

"That is the object of my visit," he replied. "I 
claim to have discovered the key which unlocks the 
constituent gases of water, and frees each from the em- 
brace of the other, at a single touch." 

"You mean to assert," I rejoined, "that you can 
make water burn itself up ?" 

"Nothing more nor less," he responded, "except 
this: to insist upon the consequences of the secret, if 
my demand be not at once complied with." 

Then, without pausing for a moment to allow me to 
make a suggestion, as I once or twice attempted to do, 
he proceeded in a clear and deliberate manner, in these 
words: "I need not inform you, sir, that when this 
earth was created, it consisted almost wholly of vapor, 
which, by condensation, finally became water. The 
oceans now occupy more than two thirds of the entire 
surface of the globe. The continents are mere islands 
in the midst of the seas. They are everywhere ocean- 
bound, and the hyperborean north is hemmed in by 



The Case of Sitmnierfield. 21 

open polar seas. Such is my first proposition. My 
second embraces the constituent elements of water. 
What is that thing which we call water? Chemistry, 
that royal queen of all the sciences, answers readily: 
' Water is but the combination of two gases, oxygen and 
hydrogen, and in the proportion of eight to one.' In 
other words, in order to form water, take eight parts of 
oxygen and one of hydrogen, mix them together, and the 
result or product is water. You smile, sir, because, as 
you ver}' properly think, these are the elementary prin- 
ciples of science, and are familiar to the minds of every 
schoolboy twelve years of age. Yes! but what next? 
Suppose you take these same gases and mix them in any 
other proportion, I care not what, and the instantaneous 
xesult is heat, flame, combustion of the intensest descrip- 
tion. The famous Drummond Light, that a few years 
ago astonished Europe — what is that but the ignited 
flame of a mixture of oxygen and hydrogen projected 
against a small piece of lime ? What was harmless as 
water, becomes the most destructive of all known objects 
when decomposed and mixed in any other proportion. 
"Now, suppose I fling the contents of this small vial 
into the Pacific Ocean, whatAvould be the result? Dare 
you contemplate it for an instant? I do not assert that 
the entire surface of the sea would instantaneously 
bubble up into insufterable flames; no, but from the 
nucleus of a circle, of which this vial would be the 
centre, lurid radii of flames would gradually shoot out- 
ward, until the blazing circumference would roll in vast 
billows of fire, upon the uttermost shores. Not all the 
dripping clouds of the deluge could extinguish it. Not 
all the tears of saints and angels could for an instant 
check its progress. On and onward it would sweep, 
with the steady gait of destiny, until the continents would 



2 2 Caxton s Book. 

melt witli fervent beat, the atmosphere glare with the 
ominous conflagration, and all living creatures, in land 
and sea and air, perish in one universal catastrophe." 

Then suddenly starting to his feet, he drew himself 
up to his full height, and murmured solemnly, "I feel 
like a God ! and I recognize my fellow-men but as pig- 
mies that I spurn beneath my feet." 

" Summerfield," said I calmly, *' there must be some 
strange error in all this. You are self-deluded. The 
weapon which you claim to wield is one that a good 
God and a beneficent Creator would never intrust to the 
keeping of a mere creature. What, sir! create a world 
as grand and beautiful as this, and hide within its 
bosom a principle that at any moment might inwrap it 
in flames, and sink all life in death ? I'll not believe it; 
'twere blasphemy to entertain the thought!" 

"And yet," cried he passionately, "your Bible 
prophesies the same irreverence. Look at your text in 2d 
Peter, third chapter, seventh and twelfth verses. Are not 
the elements to melt with fervent heat ? Are not ' the 
heavens to be folded together like a scroll?' Are not ' the 
rocks to melt, the stars to fall and the moon to be 
turned into blood?' Is not fire the next grand cjxlic 
consummation of all things here below? But I come 
fully prepared to answer such objections. Your argu- 
ment betraj^s a narrow mind, circumscribed in its orbit^ 
and shallow in its depth. 'Tis the common thought of 
mediocrity. You have read books too much, and 
studied nature too little. Let me give you a lesson 
to-day in the workshop of Omnipotence. Take a stroll 
with me into the limitless confines of space, and let us 
observe together some of the scenes transpiring at this 
very instant around us. A moment ago you spoke 
of the moon: what is she but an extinguished world? 



The Case of StiTnmerfield. 23 

You spoke of the sun: what is he but a globe of flame? 
But here is the Cosmos of Humboldt. Kead this 
paragraph." 

As he said this he placed before me the Cosmos of 
Humboldt, and I read as follows : 

Nor do the Heavens themselves teach unchangeable 
permanency in the works of creation. Change is observable 
there quite as rapid and complete as in the confines of our 
solar system. In the year 1752, one of the small stars in 
the constellation Cassiopeia blazed up suddenly into an 
orb of the first magnitude, gradually decreased in brilliancy, 
and finally disapjjeared from the skies. Nor has it ever 
been visible since that period for a single moment, either 
to the eye or to the telescope. It burned up and was lost 
in space. 

"Humboldt," he added, "has not told us who set 
that world on fire ! 

"But," resumed he, "I have still clearer proofs." 

Saying this, he thrust into my hands the last Loudon 
Quarierhj, and on opening the book at an article headed 
' ' The Language of Light, " I read with a feeling akin to 
awe, the following passage: 

Further, some stars exhibit changes of complexion in 
themselves. Sirius, as before stated, was once a ruddy, or 
rather a fiery-faced orb, but has now forgotten to blush, and 
looks down upon us with a pure, brilliant smile, in which 
there is no trace either of anger or of shame. On the coun- 
tenances of others, still more varied traits have rippled, 
within a much briefer period of time. May not these be due 
to some i^hysiological revolutions, general or convulsive, 
which are in progress in the particular orb, and which, b}^ 
affecting the constitution of its atmosphere, compel the 
absorption or j)romote the transmission of particular rays ? 
The supposition appears by no means improbable, especially 
if we call to mind the hydrogen volcanoes which have been 
discovered on the photosphere of the sun. Indeed, there 
are a few small stars which afford a spectrum of bright lines 
instead of dark ones, and this we know denotes a gaseous 
or vaporized state of things, from which it may be inferred 
that such orbs are in a different condition from most of 
their relations. 



24 Caxton s Book. 

And as, if for the very purpose of throwing light upon 
this interesting question, an event of the most striking char- 
acter occurred in the heavens, ahnost as soon as the Sioec- 
troscopists were prepared to interpret it correctly. 

On the 12th of May, 186G, a great conflagration, infinitely, 
larger than that of London or Moscow, was announced. 
To use the expression of a distinguished astronomer, a world 
was found to be on fire! A star, which till then had shone 
weakly and unobtrusivel}- in the corona horealis, suddenly 
blazed up into a luminary of the second magnitude. In 
the course of three days from its discovery in this new 
character, by Birmingham, at Tuam, it had declined to 
the third or fourth order of brilliancy. In twelve daj^s, 
dating from its first apparition in the Irish heavens, it had 
sunk to the eighth rank, and it went on waning until the 
26th of June, when it ceased to be discernible except 
through the medium of the telescope. This was a remark- 
able, though certainly not an unprecedented proceeding on 
the part of a star; but one singular circumstance in its be- 
havior was that, after the lapse of nearly two months, it 
began to blaze ixp again, though not with equal ardor, and 
after maintaining its glow for a few weeks, and i:)assing 
through sundry phases of color, it gradually paled its fires, 
and returned to its former insignificance. How many years 
had elapsed since this awful conflagration actually took 
place, it would be presumptuous to guess; but it must be 
remembered that news from the heavens, though carried by 
the fleetest of messengers, light, reaches us long after the 
event has transpired, and that the same celestial carrier is 
still dropping the tidings at each station it reaches in space, 
until it sinks exhausted by the length of its flight. 

As the star had suddenly flamed up, was it not a natural 
supposition that it had become inwrajoped in burning h}^- 
drogeu, which in consequence of some great convulsion had 
been liberated in prodigious quantities, and then combin- 
ing with other elements, had set this hapless world on fire? 
In such a fierce conflagration, the combustible gas would 
soon be consumed, and the glow would therefore begin to 
decline, subject, as in this case, to a second eruj)tion, which 
occasioned the renewed outburst of light on the 20th of 
August. 

By such a catastroj^he, it is not wholly impossible that our 
own globe may some time be ravaged; for if a word from the 



The Case of Stnnmerfield. 25 

Almighty were to unloose for a few moments the bonds of 
aflSnity which unite the elements of water, a single spark 
W'Ould bring them together with a fury that would kindle 
the funeral pyre of the human race, and be fatal to the 
planet and all the works that are thereon, 

"Your argument," he then instantly added, " is by 
no means a good one. What do we know of the Su- 
preme Architect of the Universe, or of his designs? 
He builds up worlds, and he pulls them down; he kin- 
dles suns and he extinguishes them. He inflames the 
comet, in one portion of its orbit, with a heat that no 
human imagination can conceive of; and in another, 
subjects the same blazing orb to a cold intenser than 
that which invests forever the antarctic pole. All that 
we know of Him we gather through His works. I have 
shown you that He burns other worlds, why not this ? 
The habitable parts of our globe are surrounded by 
w^ater, and water you know is fire in possibility." 

"But all this," I rejoined, "is pure, baseless, profit- 
less speculation." 

"Not so fast," lie answered. And then rising, lie 
seized the small vial, and handing it to me, requested 
me to open it. 

I confess I did so with some trepidation. 

"Now smell it." 

I did so. 

"What odor do you perceive?" 

"Potassium," I replied. 

"Of course," he added, "you are familiar with the 
<3hief characteristic of that substance. It ignites in- 
stantly when brought in contact with water. Within 
that little globule of potassium, I have imbedded a pill 
of my own composition and discovery. The moment it 
is liberated from the potassium, it commences the work 
of decomposing the fluid on which it floats. The x^o- 



2 6 Caxton s Book. 

tassium at once ignites the liberated oxygen, and the* 
conflagration of this mighty globe is begun." 

"Yes," said I, " begun, if you please, but your little 
pill soon evaporates or sinks, or melts in the surround- 
ing seas, and your conflagration ends just where it 
began." 

"My reply to that suggestion could be made at once 
by simply testing the experiment on a small scale, or a 
large one, either. But I prefer at present to refute 
your proposition by an argument drawn from nature 
herself. If you correctly remember, the first time I had 
the pleasure of seeing you was on the island of Gal- 
veston, many years ago. Do you remember relating tO' 
me at that time an incident concerning the effects of a 
prairie on fire, that you had yourself witnessed but a 
few days previously, near the town of Matagorde ? I£ 
I recollect correctly, you stated that on your return 
journey from that place, you passed on the way the 
charred remains of two wagon-loads of cotton, and 
three human beings, that the night before had perished 
in the flames; that three slaves, the property of a Mr. 
Horton, had started a few days before to carry to mar- 
ket a shipment of cotton; that a norther overtook them 
on the treeless prairie, and a few minutes afterwards- 
they were surprised by beholding a line of rushing fire, 
surging, roaring and advancing like the resistless bil- 
lows of an ocean swept by a gale; that there was no- 
time for escape, and they perished terribly in fighting 
the devouring element?" 

" Yes ; I recollect the event." 

"Now, then, I wish a reply to the simple questions 
Did the single spark, that kindled the conflagration, con- 
sume the negroes and their charge? No? But what 
did ? You reply, of course, that the spark set the en- 



The Case of Sttminerfield. 27 

tire prairie on fire ; that each spear of grass added fuel 
to the flame, and kindled by degrees a conflagration, 
that continued to burn so long as it could feed on fresh 
material. The pillule in that vial is the little spark, 
the oceans are the prairies, and the oxygen the fuel 
upon which the fire is to feed until the globe perishes 
in inextinguishable flames. The elementary substances 
in that small vial recreate themselves ; they are self- 
generating, and when once fairly under way must neces- 
sarily sweep onward, until the waters in all the seas are 
exhausted. There is, however, one great difl'erence be- 
tween the burning of a prairie and the combustion of an 
ocean : the fire in the first spreads slowly, for the fuel 
is difiicult to ignite ; in the last, it flies with the rapid- 
ity of the wind, for the substance consumed is oxygen,, 
the most inflammable agent in nature." 

Rising from my seat, I went to the washstand in the 
corner of the apartment, and drawing a bowl half full 
of Spring Yalley water, I turned to Summerfield, and 
remarked, "Words are empty, theories are ideal — but 
facts are things." 

' ' I take you at your word." So saying, he approached 
the bowl, emptied it of nine-tenths of its contents, and 
silently dropped the potassium - coated pill into th& 
liquid. The potassium danced around the edges of the 
vessel, fuming, hissing, and blazing, as it always does, 
and seemed on the point of expiring — when, to my as- 
tonishment and alarm, a sharp explosion took place, and 
in a second of time the water was blazing in a red, lurid 
column, half way to the ceiling. 

"For God's sake," I cried, " extinguish the flames^ 
or we shall set the building on fire!" 

" Had I dropped the potassium into the bowl as you 
prepared it," he quietly remarked, "the building would 
indeed have been consumed." 



2 8 Caxton s Book. 

Lower and lower fell the flickering flames, paler and 
paler grew the blaze, until finally the fire went out, and 
1! rushed up to see the effects of the combustion. 

Not a drop of water remained in the vessel ! Aston- 
ished beyond measure at what I had witnessed, and 
terrified almost to the verge of insanity, I approached 
Summerfield, and tremblingly inquired, "To whom, 
«ir, is this tremendous secret known?" "To myself 
alone," he responded; "and now answer me a ques- 
tion: is it worth the money?" 

* -x- -x- * * -x- * 

It is entirely unnecessary to relate in detail the sub- 
sequent events connected with this transaction. I will 
only add a general statement, showing the results of my 
negotiations. Having fully satisfied myself that Sum- 
merfield actually held in his hands the fate of the whole 
world, with its millions of human beings, and by experi- 
ment having tested the combustion of sea-water, with 
equal facility as fresh, I next deemed it my duty to call 
the attention of a few of the principal men in San Fran- 
cisco to the extreme importance of Summerfield's dis- 
•covery. 

A leading banker, a bishop, a chemist, two State 
university professors, a physician, a judge, and two 
Protestant divines, were selected by me to witness the 
experiment on a large scale. This was done at a small 
sand-hill lake, near the sea-shore, but separated from it 
by a ridge of lofty mountains, distant not more than ten 
miles from San Francisco. Every single drop of water 
in the pool was burnt up in less than fifteen minutes. 
We next did all that we could to pacify Summerfield, 
-and endeavored to induce him to lower his price and 
bring it within the bounds of a reasonable possibility. 
3ut without avail. He began to grow urgent in his 



The Case of Summerjield. 29 

demands, and his brow would cloud like a tempest- 
ridden sky whenever we approached him on the subject. 
Finally, ascertaining that no persuasion could soften 
his heart or touch his feelings, a sub-committee was ap- 
pointed, to endeavor, if possible, to raise the money by 
subscription. Before taking that step, however, we as- 
certained beyond all question that Summerfield Avas the 
sole custodian of his dread secret, and that he kept no 
written memorial of the formula of his prescription. 
He even went so far as to offer us a penal bond that his 
secret should perish with him in case we complied M'ith 
his demands. 

The sub-committee soon commenced work amongst 
the wealthiest citizens of San Francisco, and by ap- 
pealing to the terrors of a few, and the sympathies of 
all, succeeded in raising one half the amount within i\\& 
prescribed period. I shall never forget the woe-begone 
faces of California Street during the month of October. 
The outside world and the newspapers spoke most learn- 
edly of a money panic — a pressure in business, and the 
disturbances in the New York gold-room. But to the 
initiated, there was an easier solution of the enigma. 
The pale spectre of Death looked down upon them all, 
and pointed with its bony finger to the fiery tomb of 
the whole race, already looming up in the distance be- 
fore them. Day after day, I could see the dreadful 
ravages of this secret horror; doubly terrible, since 
they dared not divulge it. Still, do all that we could,, 
the money could not be obtained. The day preceding 
the last one given, Summerfield was summoned before 
the committee, and full information given him of the 
state of affairs. Obdurate, hard and cruel, he still con- 
tinued. Finally, a proposition was started, that an 
attempt should be made to raise the other half of the 



30 Caxtoii s Book. 

TQoney in the city of New York. To this proposal Sum- 
merfield ultimately yielded, but with extreme reluc- 
tance. It was agreed in committee, that I should 
accompany him thither, and take with me, in my own 
possession, evidences of the sums subscribed here; that 
a proper appeal should be made to the leading capital- 
ists, scholars and clergj^men of that metropolis, and 
that, when the whole amount was raised, it should be 
paid over to Summerfield, and a bond taken from him 
never to divulge his awful secret to any human being. 

With this, he seemed to be satisfied, and left us to 
prepare for his going the next morning. 

As soon as he left the apartment, the bishop arose, 
and "deprecated the action that had been taken, and 
•characterized it as childish and absurd. He declared 
that no man was safe one moment whilst "that dia- 
bolical wretch" still lived; that the only security for us 
all, was in his immediate extirpation from the face of 
the earth, and that no amount of money could seal his 
lips, or close his hands. It would be no crime, he said, 
to deprive him of the means of assassinating the whole 
human family, and that as for himself he was for doom- 
ing him to immediate death. 

With a unanimity that was extraordinary, the entire 
committee coincided. 

A great many plans were proposed, discussed and 
rejected, having in view the extermination of Summer- 
field. In them all there was the want of that proper 
caution which would lull the apprehensions of an ene- 
my; for should he for an instant suspect treachery, we 
knew his nature well enough to be satisfied, that he 
would waive all ceremonies and carry his threats into 
immediate execution. 

It was finally resolved that the trip to New York 



The Case of Summerfield. 31 

should not be abandoned, apparently. But that we 
■were to start out in accordance with the original pro- 
gramme; that during the journey, some proper means 
should be resorted to by me to carry out the final inten- 
tions of the committee, and that whatever I did would 
be sanctioned by them all, and full protection, both in 
law and conscience, afforded me in any stage of the pro- 
ceeding. 

Nothing was wanting but my own consent; but this 
^vas difficult to secure. 

At the first view, it seemed to be a most horrible and 
unwarrantable crime to deprive a fellow-being of life, 
under any circumstances; but especially so where, in 
meeting his fate, no opportunity was to be afforded him 
for preparation or repentance. It was a long time be- 
fore I could disassociate, in my mind, the two ideas of 
act and intend. My studies had long ago made me per- 
fectly familiar with the doctrine of the civil law, that 
in order to constitute guilt, there must be a union of 
action and intention. Taking the property of another 
is not theft, unless, as the lawyers term it, there is the 
animus farandi. So, in homicide, life may be lawfully 
taken in some instances, whilst the deed may be ex- 
cused in others. The sheriff hangs the felon, and de- 
prives him of existence; 5-et nobody thinks of accusing 
the officer of murder. The soldier slays his enemy, 
still the act is considered heroical. It does not there- 
fore follow that human life is too sacred to be taken 
away under all circumstances. The point to be con- 
sidered was thus narrowed down into one grand inquiry, 
whether Summerfield was properly to be regarded as 
hosiis liumani generis the enemy of the human race or 
not. If he should justly be so considered, then it 
would not only be not a crime to kill him, but an act 



32 Caxton s Book. 

worthy of the highest commendation. Who blamed 
McKeuzie for hanging Spencer to the ^^ard-arm? Yet in 
his case, the lives of only a small ship's crew Avere in 
jeoj)ardy. Who condemned Pompey for exterminating^ 
the pirates from the Adriatic? Yet, in his case, only 
a small portion of the Koman Republic was liable to 
devastation. Who accuses Charlotte Corday of assassi- 
nation for stabbing Murat in his bath? Still, her arm 
only saved the lives of a few thousands of revolutionary 
Frenchmen. And to come down to our own times, who 
heaps accusation upon the heads of Lincoln, Thomas 
or Sheridan, or even Grant, though in marching to vic- 
tory over a crushed rebellion, they deemed it neces- 
sary to wade through seas of human gore? If society- 
has the right to defend itself from the assaults of crimi- 
nals, who, at best, can only destroy a few of its members, 
why should I hesitate when it was apparent that the 
destiny of the globe itself hung in the balance? If 
Summerfield should live and carry out his threats, the 
whole world would feel the shock; his death was the 
only path to perfect safet3^ 

I asked the privilege of meditation for one hour, at 
the hands of the committee, before I would render a 
decision either way. During that recess the above 
argumentation occupied my thoughts. The time ex- 
pired, and I again presented myself before them. I 
did not deem it requisite to state the grounds of my 
decision; I briefly signified my assent, and made in- 
stant preparation to carry the plan into execution. 

Having passed on the line of the Pacific Railway 
more than once, I was perfectly familiar with all of its 
windings, gorges and precipices. 

I selected Cape Horn as the best adapted to the pur- 
pose, and . . . the public knows the rest. 



The Case of Summerfield. 33 

Having been fully acquitted by two tribunals of the 
law, I make this final appeal to my fellow-men through- 
out the State, and ask them confidently not to reverse 
the judgments already pronounced. 

I am conscious of no guilt; I feel no remorse; I need 
no repentance. For me justice has no terrors, and con- 
science no sting. Let me be judged solely by the 
motives which actuated me, and the importance ,of the 
end accomplished, and I shall pass, unscathed, both 
temporal and eternal tribunals. 

Leonidas Parkee. 




II. 

THE MERCHANT'S EXCHANGE. 

/^NE summer eve, as homeward saunt'ring slowly, 
^^ My toils and tasks for that day's business done; 
With thoughts composed, and aspirations holy. 

That heavenward rose, as downward sank the sun, 
I heard a throng, whose multitxidinous voices 

Proclaimed some act of public weal begun. 

The glad acclaim invited close inspection; 

And through the crowd I gently made my way. 
Till, standing firm upon a light projection. 

That spanned a chasm dug deep into the clay, 
I heard above the din of city noises. 

An honored voice, in solemn accents say: 

" In presence of Creation's awful Builder, 
I lay for you this polished corner-stone; 

God grant no ills your architect bewilder 

Till into strength and beauty shall have grown 

The Merchant's 'Change that shall adorn your Guilder 
When ye have mouldered into dust and bone! " 

Day after day, whilst passing to my labor, 

I saw that gorgeous edifice arise; 
Until its dome, like crest of sacred Tabor, 

Sprang from the earth, and arching in the skies, 
O'ertopp'd the peak of each asj)iring neighbor 

That wooed a tribute from the upturned eyes. 

There was no pomp of jDiovis dedication. 
Boasting this Temple sanctified to God; 



The Merchant's Exchange, 35 

And yet my soul, in prayerful meditation, 
Believed no less it might be His abode : 

For when His arm from bondage led a nation, 
He heard their cry, though kneeling on the sod ! 

Around this mart the world's great trade shall centre; 

Within these walls a Babel tumult sound, 
Not that which made doomed Shinar a memento 

Of human pride laid level to the ground. 
But blended music of all tongues shall enter, 

And in trade's peaceful symphonies resound ! 

Above this portal shall no monarch thunder, 

No grand patrician lord it o'er a slave; 
Here shall the pagan's bonds be snapt asunder. 

And creed and race no proud distinction crave; 
Here shall mankind their shackles trample under, 

And freedom's banner over freemen wave! 

Here shall Confucius braid his ebon tresses. 

Perfume the cup with aromatic teas. 
Supply gay beauty with her gaudiest dresses, — 

The worm's fine fabric, and the Bactrian fleece; 
And in exchange shall quaff a balm that blesses, 

Freedom and truth, in every passing breeze! 

Here Kamehameha realize the splendor 

Foretold by sirens, singing 'round his isles, 

How cane and pulu be the realm's defender, 
And roof his palaces with golden tiles; — 

When sturdy Saxons should their hearts surrender 
In captive bonds to coy Kanaka wiles ! 

Here PetroiDaulowski store her richest sables, 

Tahiti waft her oranges and limes, 
The Lascar weave his stout manila cables. 

The Malay chafler midst his porcelain chimes, 
Ceylon with spices scent our groaning tables, 

Pariah bring Golconda's gems, not crimes; 



36 Caxton s Book. 

Beneath tliis dome the Tycoon's gory dragon 
Shall fold his wings, and close his fiery eyes; 

Here quaffing from the same enchanted flagon, 
Fraternal incense shall to Heaven arise; 

"Whilst Vishnu, Thor, Jehovah, Bhudd, and Dagon^ 
Shall cease all strife, and struggle for the prize! 

Oh! tell me not the Christian's God will thunder, 
And rock these hills, with unforgiving ire; 

By storm or earthquake rend the globe asunder. 
And quench His wrath in everliving fire — 

When He beholds on earth so strange a wonder, 
All peoples kneeling to a common Sire ! 

Prophets and priests have from primeval ages 
Drenched all mankind in seas of human gore; 

Jurists and statesmen, orators and sages, 

Have deepened gulfs, which boundless were before;, 

T]ie merchant sails, where'er an ocean rages, 
Bridges its depths, and throws the Bainboiv o'er! 

All hail! ye founders of Pacific's glory, 

"Who serve bold Commerce at his mightiest shrine: 

Your names shall live in endless song and story, 
When black Oblivion flings her pall o'er mine; 

And when these walls shall totter, quaint and hoary,. 
Bards still shall sing, your mission was Divine! 




III. 

THE DESERTED SCHOOLHOUSE. 

*' Oh! never may a son of thine, 
Where'er his wand'ring steps incline, 
Forget the sky which bent above 
His childhood, like a dream of love." 

— Whittiee. 

THERE is no silence like that sombre gloom wliicli 
sometimes settles down upon the deserted play- 
grounds, the unoccupied benches, and the voiceless halls 
of an old schoolhouse. But if, in addition to abandon- 
ment, the fingers of decay have been busy with their 
work; if the moss has been permitted to grow, and the 
mould to gather; if the cobwebs cluster, like clouds, in 
all the corners, aud the damp dust incrusts the window- 
panes like the frosts of a northern winter; if the old well 
has caved in, and the little paths through the brushwood 
been smothered, and the fences rotted down, and the 
stile gone to ruin, then a feeling of utter desolation seizes 
upon the soul, which no philosophy can master, no 
recollections soothe, and no lapse of time dissipate. 

Perchance a lonely wanderer may be observed, travers- 
ing the same scenes which many years ago were trodden 
by his ungrown feet, looking pensively at each tree 
which sheltered his boyhood, peeping curiously under 
the broken benches on which he once sat, and turning 
over most carefully with his cane every scrap of old 
paper, that strangely enough had survived the winds and 
the rains of many winters. 



38 Caxton s Book, 

Such a schoolhouse now stauds near the little village 
of Woodville, in the State of North Carolina, and such 
a wanderer was I in the autumn of 1852. 

Woodville was the scene of my first studies, my earliest 
adventures, and my nascent loves. There I was taught 
to read and write, to swim and skate, to wrestle and box, 
to play marbles and make love. There I fought my first 
fight, had the mumps and the measles, stole my first 
watermelon, and received my first flogging. And I can. 
never forget, that within that tattered schoolroom my 
young heart first swelled with those budding passions, 
whose full development in others has so often changed 
the fortunes of the world. There eloquence produced 
its first throb, ambition struck its first spark, pride 
mounted its first stilts, love felt its first glow. There the 
eternal ideas of God and heaven, of patriotism and 
country, of love and woman, germinated in my bosom; 
and there, too. Poesy sang her first song in my enchanted 
ear, lured me far ofi" into the " grand old woods" alone, 
sported with the unlanguaged longings of my boyish 
heart, and subdued me for the first time with that mys- 
terious sorrow, whose depths the loftiest intellect cannot 
sound, and yet whose wailiugs mournfully agitate many 
a schoolboy's breast. 

I reached the village of Woodville one afternoon in 
November, after an absence of twenty-two years. Strange 
faces greeted me, instead of old, familiar ones; huge 
dwellings stood where once I had rambled through corn- 
fields, groves of young pines covered the old common in 
which I had once played at ball, and everything around 
presented such an aspect of change, that I almost doubted 
my personal identity. Nor was my astonishment dimin- 
ished in the slightest degree when the landlord of the 
inn announced his name, and I recognized it as once 



The Deserted SchoolJiouse, 39 

beloDging to a playmate famous for mischief and fleet- 
ness. Now he appeared bloated, languid, and prema- 
tvirely old. Bushy whiskers nearly covered his face, a 
horrid gash almost closed up one of his eyes, and an 
ominous limp told that he would run no more foot-races 
forever. 

Unwilling to provoke inquiries by mentioning my own 
name, and doubly anxious to see the old schoolhouse, 
which I had traveled many miles out of my way to visit, 
I took my cane and strolled leisurely along the road that 
my feet had hurried over so often in boyhood. 

The schoolhouse was situated in a small grove of oaks 
and hickories, about half a mile from the village, so as to 
be more retired, but at the same time more convenient 
for those who resided in the country. My imagination 
flew faster than my steps, and under its influence the 
half mile dwindled to a mere rod. Passing a turn in 
the road, Avliich concealed it until within a few paces, it 
suddenly burst upon my vision in all the horrors of its 
desolation. A fearful awe took possession of me, and 
as I stood beneath the trees I had so often climbed in 
years gone by, I could not refrain from looking uneasily 
behind me, and treading more softly upon the sacred 
leaves, just commencing to wither and fall. 

I approached the door with as much reverence as ever 
crept Jew or Mussulman, on bended knee and with 
downcast eye, to the portals of the Kabbala or Holy 
of Holies, and as I reached forth my hand to turn the 
latch, I involuntarily paused to listen before I crossed 
the threshold. 

Ah, manhood! what are all thy triumphs compared to 
a schoolboy's palms! What are thy infamies compared 
to his disgraces! As head of his class, he carries a 
front which a monarch might emulate in vain ; as master 



40 Caxton s Book. 

of the playground, he wields a scej^tre more indisputable 
than Czar or Caesar ever bore ! As a favorite, he pro- 
vokes a bitterer hostility than ever greeted a Bute or a 
Buckingham ; as a coward or traitor, he is loaded with 
a contumely beneath which Arnold or Hull would have 
sunk forever ! 

I listened. The pleasant hum of busy voices, the sharp 
tones of the master, the mumbled accents of hurried 
recitations, all were gone. The gathering shadows of 
evening corresponded most fittingly with the deepening 
gloom of my recollections, and I abandoned myself to 
their guidance, without an efibrt to control or direct 
them. 

I stood alone upon the step. Where was he, whose 
younger hand always locked in mine, entered that 
room and left it so often by my side; that bright-eyed 
boy, whose quick wit and genial temper won for him 
the affections both of master and scholar ; that gentle 
spirit that kindled into love, or saddened into tears, as 
easily as sunshine dallies with a flower or raindrops 
fall from a summer cloud; that brother, whose genius 
was my pride, whose courage m}^ admiration, whose soul 
my glory; he who faltered not before the walls of Cam- 
argo, when but seven men, out of as many hundred in 
his regiment, volunteered to go forward, under the com- 
mand of Taylor, to endure all the hardships of a soldier's 
life, in a tropical clime, and to brave all the dangers of 
a three days' assault upon a fortified city; he who fought 
so heroically at Monterey, and escaped death in so many 
forms on the battle-field, only to meet it at last as a 
victim to contagion, contracted at the bedside of a 
friend ? Where was he ? The swift waters of the Bio 
Grande, as they hurry past his unsculptured grave, sing 
his requiem, and carry along proudly to the everlasting 



The Deserted School house. 41 

«ea the memory of Lis noble self sacrifice, as the purest 
tribute they bear upon their tide ! 

Such were my thoughts, as I stood pensively upon the 
block that served as a step when I was boy, and which 
still occupied its ancient position. I noticed that a large 
crack extended its whole length, and several shrubs, of 
no insignificant size, were growing out of the aperture. 
This prepared me for the wreck and ruin of the interior. 
The door had been torn from its hinge, and was sus- 
tained in an upright position by a bar or prop on the 
inside. This readily gave way on a slight pressure, and 
as the old door tumbled headlong upon the floor, it 
awoke a thousand confused and muffled echoes, more 
startling to me than a clap of the loudest thunder. But 
the moment I passed the threshold, the gloom and 
terror instantly vanished. I noticed that the back door 
was open, and in casting my glance to the upper end of 
the room, where the Eev. Mr. Craig once presided in 
state, my eyes were greeted by an apparition, that had 
evidently become domiciliated in the premises, and 
whose appearance revolutionized the whole tenor of my 
thoughts. Before me stood one of those venerable- 
looking billy-goats, of sedate eye, fantastic beard, and 
crumpled horn, the detestation of perfumed belle, and 
the dread of mischievous urchin. I had seen n/ac-simile 
of him many years before, not exactly in the same 
place, but hard by in a thicket of pines. I could almost 
fancy it to be the ghost of the murdered ancestor, or 
some phantom sent to haunt me near the spot of his 
execution. I shed no tear, I heaved no sigh, as I trod 
the dust-covered floor of the " Woodville Academy," 
but greeted my Alma Blatei- with a shout of almost boy- 
ish laughter as I approached the spot where the peda- 
gogue once sat upon his throne. 



42 Caxtoji s Book. 

To explain wliy it was that my feelings underwent a 
revulsion so sudden, I must relate the Story of the 
Murdered Billy-goat. 

Colonel Averitt, a brave soldier in the war of 1812-,. 
retired from the army at the termination of hostilities^ 
and settled upon a farm adjoining the village of Wood- 
ville. He was rather a queer old gentleman; had a 
high Eoman nose, and, on muster days, was the gen- 
eral admiration of all Bertie County. He then officiated 
as colonel commandant of militia, and dressed in full 
uniform, with a tall, white feather waving most bellig- 
erently f]om his three-cornered cocked hat. He Avore 
a sash and sword, and always reviewed the troops on 
horseback. 

One day, after a statutory review of the militia of the- 
county, a proposition was started to form a volunteer 
company of mounted hussars. A nucleus was soon 
obtained, and in less than a week a sufficient number 
had enrolled themselves to authorize the Colonel to 
order a drill. It happened on a Saturday; the place 
selected was an old field near the schoolhouse, and I 
need not add that the entire battalion of boys was out. 
in full force, as spectators of the warlike exercises. 
How they got through with the parade, I have forgot- 
ten; but I do remember that the mania for soldiering,, 
from that day forward, took possession of the school. 

The enrollment at first consisted entirely of infantry, 
and several weeks elapsed before anybody ventured to 
suggest a mounted corps. Late one afternoon, how- 
ever, as we were returning homeward, with drums beat- 
ing and colors flying, we disturbed a flock of laz}' goats, 
browsing upon dry grass, and evincing no great dread 
for the doughty warriors advancing. Our captain, 
whose dignity was highly offended at this utter want 



The Deserted Sckoolhouse. 43 

of respect, gave the order to " form column!" "present 
arms! "and "charge!" Austrian nor Spaniard, Italian 
nor Prussian, before the resistless squadrons of Murat 
or Macdonald, ever displayed finer qualities of light 
infantry or flying artillery, than did the vanquished 
enemy of the " Woodville Cadets" on this memorable 
occasion. They were taken entirely by surprise, and, 
without offering the least resistance, right-about-faced, 
and fled precipitously from the field. Their terrified 
bleating mingled fearfully with our shouts of victory;, 
and when, at the command of our captain, I blew the 
signal to halt and rendezvous, our brave fellows mag- 
nanimously gave up the pursuit, and returned from tha 
chase, bringing with them no less than five full-grown, 
prisoners, as trophies of victory ! 

A council of war was immediately called, to deter- 
mine in what way we should dispose of our booty. 
After much learned discussion, and some warm dis- 
putes, the propositions were narrowed down to two: 

Plan the first was, to ciat off all the beard of each 
prisoner, flog, and release him. 

Plan the second, on the contrary, was, to conduct the 
prisoners to the playground, treat them kindly, and en- 
deavor to train them to the bit and saddle, so as to 
furnish the ofiicers with what they needed so much, — 
war-steeds for battle, fiery chargers for review. 

The vote was finally taken, and plan number two was. 
adopted by a considerable majority. 

Obstacles are never insurmountable to boys and Bo- 
napartes ! Our covp cVetat succeeded quite as well as- 
that of the 2d of December, and before a week elapsed 
the chief ofiicers were all splendidly mounted and fully 
equipped. 

At this stage of the war against the "bearded races,"' 



44 Caxton s Book. 

the cavalry question was propounded by one of the pri- 
vates in Company A. For his part, he declared can- 
didly that he was tired of marching and countermarching 
afoot, and that he saw no good reason why an invasion 
of the enemy's country should not at once be under- 
taken, to secure animals enough to mount the whole 
regiment. 

Another council was held, and the resolve unanimously 
adopted, to cross the border in full force, on the next 
Saturday afternoon. 

In the meantime, the clouds of war began to thicken 
in another quarter. Colonel Averitt had been informed 
•of the coiq:) cVeiat related above, and determined to pre- 
vent any further depredations on his flock by a stroke 
of masterly generalship, worthy of his prowess in the 
late war with Great Britain. 

And now it becomes proper to introduce upon the 
scene the most important personage in this history, and 
the hero of the whole story. I allude, of course, to the 
bold, calm, dignified, undaunted and imperturbable 
natural guardian of the Colonel's fold — Billy Goat ! 

He boasted of a beard longer, whiter, and more ven- 
erable than a high -priest in Masonry; his mane emulated 
that of the king of beasts ; his horns were as crooked, 
and almost as long, as the Cashie River, on whose 
banks he was born ; his tail might have been selected 
by some Spanish hidalgo, as a coat of arms, emblem- 
atic of the pride and hauteur of his family ; whilst his 
tout ensemble presented that dignity of demeanor, maj- 
esty of carriage, consciousness of superior fortune, and 
defiance of all danger, which we may imagine character- 
ized the elder Napoleon previous to the battle of Water- 
loo. But our hero possessed moral qualities quite equal 
to his personal traits. He was brave to a fault, com- 



The Dese7'ted Sclwolhouse. 45 

bative to a miracle, and as invincible in battle as he 
was belligerent in mood. The sight of a coat-tail inva- 
riably excited his anger, and a red handkerchief nearly 
distracted him with rage. Indeed, he had recently 
grown so irascible that Colonel Averitt was compelled 
to keep him shut np in the fowl-yard, a close prisoner,, 
to protect him from a justly indignant neighborhood. 

Such Avas the champion that the Colonel now released 
and placed at the head of the opposing forces. Satur- 
day came at last, and the entire morning was devoted 
to the construction of the proper number of wooden 
bits, twine bridle-reins, leather stirrups and pasteboard 
saddles. By twelve o'clock everything was ready, and 
the order given to march. We Avere disappointed in 
not finding the enemy at his accustomed haunt, and had 
to prolong our march nearly half a mile before we came 
up with him. Our scouts, however, soon discovered 
him in an old field, lying encamped beneath some young^ 
persimmon bushes, and entirely unconscious of impend- 
ing danger. We approached stealthily, according to our 
usual plan, and then at a concerted signal rushed head- 
long upon the foe. But we had no sooner given the 
alarm than our enemies sprang to their feet, and clus- 
tered about a central object, which we immediately rec- 
ognized, to our chagrin and terror, as none other than 
Billy Goat himself. 

The captain, however, was not to be daunted or foiled; 
he boldly made a plunge at the champion of our adver- 
saries, and would have succeeded in seizing him by the- 
horns, if he had not been unfortunately butted over be- 
fore he could reach them. Two or three of our bravest 
comrades flew to his assistance, but met with the same 
fate before they could rescue him from danger. The 
remainder of us drew ofi" a short but prudent distance 



46 Caxton s Book. 

from the field of battle, to hold a council of war, and 
determine upon a plan of operations. In a few mo- 
ments our wounded companions joined us, and entreated 
us to close at once upon the foe and surround him. 
They declared thej' were not afraid to beard the lion in 
liis den, and that being butted heels over head two or 
three times but whetted their courage, and incited them 
to deeds of loftier daring. Their eloquence, however, 
ivas more admired than their prudence, and a large ma- 
jority of the council decided that "it was inopportune, 
without other munitions of war than those we had upon 
the field, to risk a general engagement." It was agreed, 
however, nem. con., that on the next Saturday we would 
provide ourselves with ropes and fishing-poles, and such 
other arms as might prove advantageous, and proceed 
to surround and noose our most formidable enemy, over- 
power him by the force of numbers, and take him pris- 
oner at all hazards. Having fully determined upon this 
plan of attack, we hoisted our fiag once more, ordered 
the drum to beat Yankee Doodle, and retreated in most 
excellent order from the field — our foe not venturing to 
pursue us. 

The week wore slowl}^ and uneasily away. The clouds 
of war were gathering rapidl}^ and the low roll of dis- 
tant thunder announced that a battle storm of no ordi- 
nary importance was near at hand. Colonel Averitt, by 
some traitorous trick of war, had heard of our former de- 
feat, and publicly taunted our commander with his fail- 
ure. Indeed, more than one of the villagers had heard 
of the disastrous result of the cam}>aign, and sent imper- 
tinent messages to those who had been wounded in the 
encounter. Two or three of the young ladies, also, in 
the girls' department, had been inoculated with the fun 
(as it was absurdly denominated), and a leather medal 



The Deserted Schoolhotise. 47 

"vs'as pinned most provokiugly to the sliort jacket of the 
captain by one of those hoydenish Amazons. 

All these events served to whet the courage of our 
men, and strange as it may appear, to embitter our hos- 
tility to our victorious foe. Some of the officers pro- 
ceeded so far as to threaten Colonel Averitt himself, 
and at one time, I am confident, he stood in almost as 
much danger as the protector of his flock. 

Saturday came at last, and at the first blast of the 
bugle, we formed into line, and advanced with great 
alacrity into the enemy's country. After marching half 
an hour, our scouts hastily returned, with the informa- 
tion that the enemy was drawn up, in full force, near 
the scene of the Persimmon bush battle. We advanced 
courageously to within speaking distance, and then 
halted to breathe the troops and prepare for the en- 
gagement. We surveyed our enemies with attention, 
but without alarm. There they stood right before us! 

" Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form; 
Still as the breeze, but dreadfiil as the storm! " 

Our preparations were soon made, and at the com- 
mand of the captain, we separated into single files, one 
half making a detoiir to the right, and the other to the 
left, so as to encircle the foe. Our instructions were to 
spare all non-combatants, to pass by as unworthy of 
notice all minor foes, and to make a simultaneous rush 
upon the proud champion of our adversaries. 

By this masterly manoeuvre it was supposed we should 
be enabled to escape unharmed, or at any rate without 
many serious casualties. But as it afterward appeared, 
we did not sufficiently estimate the strength and activ- 
ity of our enemy. 

After this preparatory manoeuvre had been success- 
fully accomplished, our captain gave the order to 
" charge! " in a stentorian voice, and at the same time 



48 Caxton s Book. 

rushed forward most gallantly at the head of the squad- 
ron. The post of honor is generally the post of dan- 
ger also, and so it proved on this occasion; for before 
the captain could grapple with the foe, Billy Goat rose 
suddenly on his hinder legs, and uttering a loud note 
of defiance, dashed with lightning sj)eed at the breast 
of our commander, and at a single blow laid him pros- 
trate on the field. Then wheeling quickly, ere any of 
his assailants could attack his rear flank, he performed 
the same exploit upon the first and second lieutenants, 
and made an unsuccessful pass at the standard-bearer, 
who eluded the danger by a scientific retreat. At this 
moment, when the fortunes of the day hung, as it were, 
on a single hair, our drummer, who enjoyed the sobri- 
quet of "Weasel," advanced slowly but chivalrously 
upon the foe. 

As the hosts of Israel and Gath paused upon the field 
of Elah, and awaited with fear and trembling the issue 
of the single-handed contest between David and Goliah;. 
as Koman and Sabine stood back and reposed on their 
arms, whilst Horatio and Curiatii fought for the destiny 
of Rome and the mastery of the world, so the " Wood- 
ville Cadets " halted in their tracks on this memorable 
day, and all aghast with awe and admiration, watched 
the progress of the terrible duello between " Weasel," 
the drummer boy, and Billy Goat, the hero of the battle 
of the Persimmon bush. 

The drummer first disengaged himself from the in- 
cumbrance of his martial music, then threw his hat 
fiercely upon the ground, and warily and circumspectly 
approached his foe. Nor was that foe unprepared, for 
rearing as usual on his nether extremities, he bleated 
out a long note of contempt and defiance, and dashed 
suddenly upon the " Weasel." 

Instead of waiting to receive the force of the blow upon 



Ihe Deserted Schoolhouse. 49 

his breast or brow, the drummer wheeled right-about 
face, and falling suddenly upon all fours with most 
surprising dexterit}^, presented a less vulnerable part of 
his body to his antagonist, who, being under full head- 
way, was compelled to accept the substituted buttress, 
and immediately planted there a herculean thump. I 
need not say that the drummer was hurled many feet 
heels over head, by this disastrous blow; but he had 
obtained the very advantage he desired to secure, and 
springing upon his feet he leaped quicker than light- 
ning upon the back of his foe, and in spite of every 
effort to dislodge him, sat there in security and triumph! 

With a loud huzza, the main body of the " Cadets" 
now rushed forward, and after a feeble resistance, suc- 
ceeded in overpowering the champion of our foes. 

As a matter of precaution, we blindfolded him with 
several handkerchiefs, and led him away in as much 
state as the Emperor Aurelian displayed when he car- 
ried Zenobia to Eome, a prisoner at his chariot-wheels. 

The fate of the vanquished Billy Goat is soon related. 
A council of war decided that he should be taken into 
a dense pine thicket, there suspended head downwards, 
and thrashed ad libitum, by the whole army. 

The sentence was carried into execution immediately; 
and though he was cut down and released after our 
vengeance was satisfied, I yet owe it to truth and his- 
tory to declare, that before a week elapsed, he died of 
a broken heart, and was buried by Colonel Averitt with 
all the honors of war. 

If it be any satisfaction to the curious inquirer, I may 
add in conclusion, that the Kev. Mr. Craig avenged his 
manes, by wearing out a chinquapin apiece on the backs 
of " Weasel," the captain and officers, and immediately 
afterward disbanded the whole army. 



IV. 

FOR AN ALBUM. 

"TTrHEN first our father, Adam, sinned 

^ ^ Against tbe will of Heaven, 
And forth from Eden's happy gates 

A wanderer was driven, 
He paused beside a limpid brook, 

That through the garden ran. 
And, gazing in its mirrored wave, 

Beheld himself — a man ! 

God's holy peace no longer beamed 

In brightness fi'om his eye; 
But in its depths dark passions blazed, 

Like lightnings in the sky. 
Young Innocence no longer wreathed 

His features with her smile; 
But Sin sat there in scorched dismay, 

Like some volcanic isle. 

No longer radiant beauty shone 

Uj)Ou his manly brow; 
But care had traced deep furrows there. 

With stern misfortune's plow. 
Joy beamed no longer from his face; 

His step was sad and slow; 
His heart was heavy with its grief; 

His bosom with its woe. 

"Whilst gazing at his altered form 

Within the mirrored brook. 
He spied an angel leaning o'er. 

With pity in her look. 



For an Albtcm. 51 

He turned, distrustful of his sight, 

Unwilling to believe, 
When, lo! in Heaven's own radiance smiled. 

His sweet companion. Eve! 

Fondly he clasped her to his heart, 

And blissfully he cried, • 
" What tho' I've lost a Paradise, 

I've gained an angel bride ! 
No flowers in Eden ever bloomed. 

No! not in heaven above, 
Sweeter than woman brings to man — 

Her friendshij), ti-uth, and love!" 

These buds were brought by Adam's bride, 

Outside of Eden's gate, 
And scattered o'er the world; to them 

This book I dedicate. 




V. 

PHASES IN THE LIFE OF JOHN POLLEXFEN. 

PHASE THE FIRST. 

THEEE are but three persons now living who can 
truthfully answer the question, "How did John 
Pollexfen, the photographer, make his fortune? " 

No confidence will be violated, now that he is dead, 
and his heirs residents of a foreign country, if I relate 
the story of that singular man, whose rapid accumula- 
tion of wealth astonished the whole circle of his 
acquaintance. 

Returning from the old man's funeral a few days 
since, the subject of Pollexfen's discoveries became 
the topic of conversation; and my companions in the 
same carriage, aware that, as his attorney and confiden- 
tial friend, I knew more of the details of his business 
than any one else, extorted from me a promise that at 
the first leisure moment I would relate, in print, the 
secret of that curious invention by M'hich the photo- 
graphic art was so largely enriched, and himself ele- 
vated at once to the acme of opulence and renown. 

Few persons who were residents of the city of San 
Francisco at an early day, will fail to remember the 
site of the humble gallery in which Pollexfen laid 
the foundations of his fame. It was situated on Mer- 
chant Street, about midway between Kearny and Mont- 
gomery Streets, in an old wooden building; the ground 
being occupied at present by the solid brick structure 



Phases in the Life of John Pollexfen. 5 3 

of Thomas E. Bolton. It fed the flcames of the great 
May fire of 1851, was rebuilt, but again consumed in 
December, 1853. It was during the fall of the latter 
year that the principal event took place which is to con- 
stitute the most prominent feature of my narrative. 

I am aware that the facts will be discredited by many, 
and doubted at first by all; but I beg to premise, at the 
outset, that because they are uncommon, by no means 
proves that they are untrue. Besides, should the ques- 
tion ever become a judicial one, I hold in my hands 
such ivritten 2^roo/s, signed by the parties most deeply 
implicated, as will at once terminate both doubt and 
litigation. Of this, however, I have at present no ap- 
prehensions; for Lucile and her husband are both too 
honorable to assail the reputation of the dead, and too 
rich themselves to attempt to pillage the living. 

As it is my wish to be distinctly understood, and at 
the same time to be exculpated from all blame for the 
part I myself acted in the drama, the story must com- 
mence with my first acquaintance with Mademoiselle 
Lucile Marmont. 

In the spring of 1851, I embarked at New York for 
Panama, or rather Chagres, on board the steamship 
" Ohio," Captain Schenck, on my way to the then dis- 
tant coast of California, attracted hither by the universal 
desire to accumulate a rapid fortune, and return at the 
earliest practicable period to my home, on the Atlantic 
seaboard. 

There were many hundred such passengers on the 
same ship. But little sociability prevailed, until after 
the steamer left Havana, where it was then the custom 
to touch on the " outward bound," to obtain a fresh 
supply of fuel and provisions. We were detained longer 
than customary at Havana, and most of the passengers 



54 Cax ton's Book. " 

embraced the opportunity to visit the Bishop's Garden 
and the tomb of Columbus. 

One morning, somewhat earlier than usual, I was 
standing outside the railing which incloses the monu- 
ment of the great discoverer, and had just transcribed 
in my note-book the following epitaph: 

" O! Eestos y Imagen 

Del Grande Colon: 
Mil siglos durad guardados 

En lare Urna, 
Y en la Bemembranza 

De Nuestra Nacion," 

when I was suddenly interrupted by a loud scream 
directly behind me. On turning, I beheld a young 
lady whom I had seen but once before on the steamer, 
leaning over the prostrate form of an elderly female, 
and applying such restoratives as were at hand to re- 
suscitate her, for she had fainted. Seeing me, the 
daughter exclaimed, " Oh, Monsieur! y-a-t-il tin medecin 
id?" I hastened to the side of the mother, and was 
about to lift her from the pavement, when M. Marmont 
himself entered the cathedral. I assisted him in placing 
his wife in a volante then passing, and she was safely 
conveyed to the hotel. 

Having myself some knowledge of both French and 
Spanish, and able to converse in either tongue, Lucile 
Marmont, then sixteen years of age, and I, from that 
time forward, became close and confidential friends. 

The steamer sailed the next day, and in due time 
anchored off the roadstead of Chagres. But Mme. 
Marmont, in the last stages of consumption when she 
embarked at New York, continued extremely ill until 
we passed Point Concepcion, on this coast, when she 
suddenly expired from an attack of hemorrhage of the 
lungs. 



Phases in the Life of John Pollexfc7t, 5 5 

She was buried at sea; and never can I forget the 
nuntterable anguish of poor Lucile, as her mother's 
body splashed into the cold blue waters of the Pacific. 

There she stood, holding on to the railing, paler than 
monumental marble, motionless as a statue, rigid as a 
corpse. The whole scene around her seemed unper- 
ceived. Her eyes gazed upon vacancy; her head was 
thrust slightly forward, and her disheveled tresses, black 
as Plutonian night, fell neglected about her shoulders. 

Captain Watkins, then commanding the " Panama" 
— whom, may God bless — wept like a child; and his 
manly voice, that never quailed in the dread presence 
of the lightning or the hurricane, broke, chokingly, as 
he attempted to finish the burial rite, and died away in 
agitated sobs. 

One by one the passengers left the spot, consecrated 
to the grief of that only child — now more than orphaned 
by her irreparable loss. Lifting my eyes, at last, none 
save the daughter and her father stood before me. 
Charmed to the spot was I, by a spell that seemed irre- 
sistible. Scarcely able to move a muscle, there I re- 
mained, speechless and overpowered. Finally the father 
spoke, and then Lucile fell headlong into his arms. He 
bore her into his state-room, where the ship's surgeon 
was summoned, and where he continued his ministra- 
tions until we reached this port. 

It is scarcely necessary to add, that I attended them 
ashore, and saw them safely and commodiously lodged 
at the old Parker House, before I once thought of my 
own accommodations. 

"Weeks passed, and months, too, stole gradually away, 
before I saw anything more of the bereaved and mourn- 
ing child. One day, however, as I was lolling care- 
lessly in my office, after business hours (and that meant 



56 CaxtoTi s Book. 

just at dark in those early times), Lucile hastily entered. 
I was startled to see her; for upon her visage I thought 
I beheld the same stolid spell of agony that some months 
before had transfixed my very soul. Before I had time 
to recover myself, or ask her to be seated, she ap- 
proached closer, and said in a half whisper, ' ' Oh, sir, 
come with me home." 

On our way she explained that her father was lying 
dangerously ill, and that she knew no physician to whom 
she could apply, and in whose skill she could place con- 
fidence. I at once recommended Dr. H. M. White 
(since dead), well knowing not only his great success, 
but equally cognizant of that universal charity that ren- 
dered him afterwards no less beloved than illustrious. 
Without a moment's hesitation, the Doctor seized his 
hat, and hastened along with us, to the wretched abode 
of the sick, and, as it afterwards proved, the palsied 
father. The disease was pronounced apoplexy, and re- 
covery doubtful. Still, there was hope. Whilst we 
were seated around the bedside, a tall, emaciated, feeble, 
but very handsome young man entered, and staggered 
to a seat. He was coarsely and meanly clad; but there 
was something about him that not only betokened the 
gentleman, but the well-bred and accomplished scholar. 
As he seated himself, he exchanged a glance with Lucile, 
and in that silent look I read the future history of both 
their lives. On lifting my eyes toward hers, the pallor 
fled for an instant from her cheek, and a traitor blush 
flashed its crimson confession across her features. 

The patient was copiously bled from an artery in the 
temple, and gradually recovered his consciousness, but 
on attempting to speak we ascertained that partial paral- 
ysis had resulted from the fit. 

As I rose, with the Doctor, to leave, Lucile beckoned 



Phases in the Life of John Pollexfen. 5 7 

me to remain, and approaching me more closely, whis- 
pered in French, "Stay, and I will tell you all." The 
main points of her story, though deeply interesting to 
me, at that time, were so greatly eclipsed by subsequent 
events, that they are scarcely worthy of narration. 
Indeed, I shall not attempt to detail them here fully, but 
will content myself with stating, in few words, only such 
events as bear directly upon the fortunes of John 
Pollexfen. 

As intimated above, Lucile was an only child. She 
was born in Dauphiny, a province of France, and immi- 
grated to America during the disastrous year 1848. Her 
father was exiled, and his estates seized by the officers 
of the government, on account of his political tenets. 
The family embarked at Marseilles, with just sufficient 
ready money to pay their passage to New York, and 
support them for a few months after their arrival. It soon 
became apparent that want, and perhaps starvation, 
were in store, unless some means of obtaining a liveli- 
hood could be devised. The sole expedient was music, 
of which M. Marmont was a proficient, and to this 
resource he at once applied himself most industriously. 
He had accumulated a sufficient sum to pay his expenses 
to this coast, up to the beginning of 1851, and took 
passage for San Francisco, as we have already seen, in 
the spring of that year. 

Beaching here, he became more embarrassed every 
day, unacquainted as he was with the language, and still 
less with the wild life into which he was so suddenly 
plunged. Whilst poverty was pinching his body, grief 
for the loss of his wife was torturing his soul. Silent, 
sad, almost morose to others, his only delight was in his 
child. Apprehensions for her fate, in case of accident 
to himself, embittered his existence, and hastened the 



58 Caxtoii s Book. 

catastrophe above related. Desirous of placing lier in a 
situation in which she could earn a livelihood, independ- 
ent of his own precarious exertions, he taught her 
drawing and painting, and had just succeeded in obtain- 
ing for her the employment of coloring photographs at 
Pollexfen's gallery the very day he was seized with his 
fatal disorder. 

Some weeks previous to this, Charles Courtlaud, the 
young man before mentioned, became an inmate of his 
house under the following circumstances : 

One evening, after the performances at the Jenny Lind 
Theatre (where M. Marmont was em|)loyed) were over, 
and consequently very late, whilst he was pursuing his 
lonely way homewards he accidentally stumbled over an 
impediment in his path. He at once recognized it as a 
human body, and being near home, he lifted the sense- 
less form into his house. A severe contusion behind the 
ear had been the cause of the young man's misfortune, 
and his robbery had been successfully accomplished 
whilst lying in a state of insensibility. 

His recovery was extremely slow, and though watched 
by the brightest pair of eyes that ever shot their dan- 
gerous glances into a human soul, Courtland had not 
fully recovered his strength up to the time that I made 
his acquaintance. 

He was a Virginian by birth; had spent two years in 
the mines on Feather Eiver, and having accumulated a 
considerable sum of money, came to San Francisco to 
purchase a small stock of goods, with which he in- 
tended to open a store at Bidwell's Bar. His robbery 
frustrated all these golden dreams, and his capture by 
Lucile Marmont completed his financial ruin. 

Here terminates the first phase in the history of Johrk 
Pollexfen. 



Phases i?i the Life of John Pollcxfeii. 59 



PHASE THE SECOND. 

"Useless! useless! all useless!" exclaimed John Pol- 
lexfen, as he dashed a glass negative, which he had most 
elaborately prepared, into the slop-bucket. "Go, sleep 
with your predecessors." After a moment's silence, he 
again spoke: "But I know it exists. Nature has the 
secret locked up securely, as she thinks, but I'll tear it 
from her. Doesn't the eye see ? Is not the retina im- 
pressible to the faintest gleam of light? What tele- 
graphs to my soul the colors of the rainbow ? Nothing 
but the eye, the human eye. And shall John Pollexfen 
be told, after he has lived half a century, that the com- 
pacted humors of this little organ can do more than his 
whole laboratory? By heaven! I'll wrest the secret 
from the labyrinth of nature, or pluck my own eyes 
from their sockets." 

Thus soliloquized John Pollexfen, a few days after 
the events narrated in the last chapter. 

He was seated at a table, in a darkened chamber, with 
a light burning, though in the middle of the day, and 
his countenance bore an unmistakable expression of 
disappointment, mingled with disgust, at the failure of 
his last experiment. He was evidently in an ill-humor, 
and seemed puzzled what to do next. Just then a light 
tap came at the door, and in reply to an invitation to 
enter, the pale, delicate features of Lucile Marmont 
appeared at the threshold. 

"Oh! is it you, my child ?" said the photographer, 
rising. "Let me see your touches." After surveying 
the painted photographs a moment, he broke out into a 
sort of artistic glee: "Beautiful! beautiful! an adept, 
quite an adept! Who taught you? Come, have no se- 
crets from me; I'm an old man, and may be of service 
to you yet. What city artist gave you the cue ?" 



6o Caxton s Book. 

Before relating any more of tlie conversation, it be- 
comes necessary to paint John Pollexfen as he was. 
Metliinks I can see his tall, ravvboned, angular form 
before me, even now, as I write these lines. There he 
stands, Scotch all over, from head to foot. It was 
whispered about in early times — for really no one knew 
much about his previous career — that John Pollex- 
fen had been a famous sea captain; that he had sailed 
around the world many times; had visited the coast of 
Africa under suspicious circumstances, and finally found 
his way to California from the then unpopular region of 
Australia. Without pausing to trace these rumors fur- 
ther, it must be admitted that there was something in 
the appearance of the man sufficiently repulsive, at first 
sight, to give them currency. He had a large bushy 
head, profusely furnished with hair almost brickdust 
in color, and growing down upon a broad, low forehead, 
indicative of great mathematical and constructive 
power. His brows were long and shaggy, and over- 
hung a restless, deep-set, cold, gray eye, that met the 
fiercest glance unquailingly, and seemed possessed of 
that magnetic power which dazzles, reads and confounds 
whatsoever it looks upon. There was no escape from 
its inquisitive glitter. It sounded the very depths of the 
soul it thought proper to search. Whilst gazing at you, 
instinct felt the glance before your own eye was lifted 
so as to encounter his. There was no human weakness 
in its expression. It was as pitiless as the gleam of 
the lightning. But you felt no less that high intelli- 
gence flashed from its depths. Courage, you knew, 
was there; and true bravery is akin to all the nobler vir- 
tues. This man, you at once said, may be cold, but it 
is impossible for him to be unjust, deceitful or ungen- 
erous. He might, like Shyloek, insist on a riglil, no 



Phases in the Life of John Pollexfen. 6r 

matter how vindictive, but he would never forge a 
claim, no matter how insignificant. He might crush, 
like Csesar, but he could never plot like Catiline. In 
addition to all this, it required but slight knowledge of 
physiognomy to perceive that his stern nature was tinc- 
tured with genuine enthusiasm. Earnestness beamed 
forth in every feature. His soiil was as sincere as it 
was unbending. He could not trifle, even with, the 
most inconsiderable subject. Laughter he abhorred. 
He could smile, but there was little contagion in his 
pleasantry. It surprised more than it pleased you. 
Blended with this deep, scrutinizing, earnest and en- 
thusiastic nature, there was an indefinable something, 
shading the whole character — it might have been earlj 
sorrow, or loss of fortune, or baffled ambition, or 
unrequited love. Still, it shone forth patent to the ex- 
perienced eye, enigmatical, mysterious, sombre. There 
was danger, also, in it, and many, who knew him best, 
attribated his eccentricity to a softened jDhase of 
insanity. 

But the most marked practical trait of Pollexfen's 
character was his enthusiasm for his art. He studied 
its history, from the humble hints of Nidpce to th© 
glorious triumphs of Farquer, Bingham, and Bradley, 
with all the soul-engrossing fidelity of a child, and spent 
many a midnight hour in striving to rival or surpass, 
them. It was always a subject of astonishment with 
me, until after his death, how it happened that a rough, 
athletic seaman, as people declared he was originally, 
should become so intensely absorbed in a science re- 
quiring delicacy of taste, and skill in manipulation 
rather than power of muscle, in its practical application. 
But after carefully examining the papers tied up in the 
same package with his last will and testament, I ceased 
to wonder, and sought no further for an explanation. 



62 Caxton s Book. 

Most prominent amongst these carefully preserved 
documents was an old diploma, granted by the Uni- 
versity of Edinburgh, in the year 1821, to "John Pol- 
lexfen, Gent., of Hallicardin, Perthshire," constituting 
him Doctor of Medicine. On the back of the diploma, 
written in a round, clear hand, I found indorsed as 
follows : 

Fifteen years of my life have I lost by professing mod- 
ern quackery. Medicine is not a science, properly so called. 
It is at most but an art. He best succeeds who creates his 
own system. Each generation adopts its peculiar manual: 
Sangrado to-day; Thomson to-morrow; Hahnemann the day 
after. Surgery advances; physic is stationary. But chem- 
istry, glorious chemistry, is a science. Born amid dissolving 
ruins, and cradled upon rollers of fire, her step is onward. 
At her side, as an humble menial, henceforth shall be found 

John Pollexfen. 

The indorsement bore no date, but it must have been 
written long before his immigration to California. 

Let us now proceed with the interview between the 
photographer and his employee. Eepeating the question 
quickly, "Who gave you the cue?" demanded Pollexfen. 

" My father taught me drawing and painting, but my 
own taste suggested the coloring." 

"Do you mean to tell me, really, that you taught 
yourself, Mile. Marmont ?" and as he said this, the cold, 
gray eye lit up with unwonted brilliancy. 

" What I say is true," replied the girl, and elevating 
her own lustrous eyes, they encountered his own, with 
a glance quite as steady. 

" Let us go into the sunlight, and examine the tints 
more fully;" and leading the way they emerged into the 
sitting-room where customers were in the habit of 
awaiting the artist's pleasure. 

Here the pictures were again closely scrutinized, but 



Phases in the Life of fohn Pollexfen. 6 



o 



far more accurately than before; and after fully satisfy- 
ing his curiosity on the score of the originality of the 
penciling, approached Lucile very closely, and darting 
his wonderful glance into the depths of her own eyes, 
said, after a moment's pause, "You have glorious eyes." 

Lucile was about to protest, in a hurried way, against 
such adulation, when he continued: "Nay, nay, do not 
deny it. Your eyes are the most fathomless orbs that 
ever I beheld — large, too, and lustrous — the very eyes 
I have been searching for these five years past. A 
judge of color ; a rare judge of color ! How is your 
father to-day, my child?" 

The tone of voice in which this last remark was made 
had in it more of the curious than the tender. It 
seemed to have been propounded more as a matter of 
business than of feeling. Still, Lucile rej)lied resjDect- 
fully, "Oh! worse, sir; a great deal worse. Doctor 
White declares that it is impossible for him to recover, 
and that he cannot live much longer." 

"Not live?" replied Pollexfen, "not live?" Then, 
^s if musing, he solemnly added, ' ' When your father 
is dead, Lucile, come to me, and I will make your 
fortune. That is, if you follow my advice, and place 
yourself exclusively under my instructions. Nay, but 
you shall earn it yourself. See !" he exclaimed, and 
producing a bank deposit-book from his pocket, "See! 
here have I seven thousand five hundred dollars in 
bank, and I would gladly exchange it for one of your 
eyes." 

Astonishment overwhelmed the girl, and she could 
make no immediate reply ; and before she had suffi- 
ciently recovered her self-possession to speak, the 
photographer hastily added, " Don't wonder ; farewell, 
now. Remember what I have said — seven thousand 
five hundred dollars just for one eye!" 



64 Caxton s Book. 

Lucile was glad to escape, without uttering a syllable. 
Pursuing her way homewards, she pondered deeply 
over the singular remark with which Pollexfen closed 
the conversation, and half muttering, said to herself, 
" Can he be in earnest? or is it simply the odd way in 
which an eccentric man pays a compliment?" But long 
before she could solve the enigml;, other thoughts, far 
more engrossing, took sole possession of her mind. 

She fully realized her situation — a dying father, and 
a sick lover, both dependent in a great measure upon 
her exertions, and she herself not yet past her seven- 
teenth year. 

On reaching home she found the door wide open, and 
Courtland standing in the entrance, evidently awaiting 
her arrival. As she approached, their eyes met, and a 
glance told her that all was over. 

" Dead !" softly whispered Courtland. 

A stifled sob was all that broke from the lips of the- 
child, as she fell lifeless into the arms of her lover. 

I pass over the mournful circumstances attending the 
funeral of the exiled Frenchman. He was borne to his 
grave by a select few of his countrymen, whose acquaint- 
ance he had made during his short residence in this city. 
Like thousands of others, who have perished in our 
midst, he died, and "left no sign." The newspapers 
published the item the next morning, and before the 
sun had set upon his funeral rites the poor man was 
forgotten by all except the immediate persons connected 
with this narrative. 

To one of them, at least, his death was not only an 
important event, but it formed a great epoch in her 
history. 

Lucile was transformed, in a moment of time, from 
a helpless, confiding, affectionate girl, into a full-grown^ 



Phases i7i the Life of John Pollexfen. 65 

self-dependent, imperious woman. Such revolutions, I 
know, are rare in everyday life, and but seldom occur; 
in fact, they never happen except in those rare instances 
where nature has stamped a character with the elements 
of inborn originality and force, which accident, or 
sudden revulsion, develops at once into full maturity. 
To such a soul, death of an only parent operates like 
the summer solstice upon the winter snow of Siberia. 
It melts away the weakness and credulity of childhood 
almost miraculously, and exhibits, with the suddenness 
of an apparition, the secret and hitherto unknown traits 
that will forever afterwards distinguish the individual. 
The explanation of this curious moral phenomenon con- 
sists simply in briuging to the surface what already was 
in existence below; not in the instantaneous creation of 
new elements of character. The tissues were already 
there; circumstance hardens them into bone. Thus we 
sometimes behold the same marvel produced by the mar- 
riage of some characterless girl, whom we perhaps had 
known from infancy, and whose individuality we had 
associated with cake, or crinoline — a gay humming-bird 
of social life, so light and frivolous and unstable, that, 
as she flitted across our pathway, we scarcely deigned 
her the compliment of a thought. Yet a week or a 
month after her nuptials, we meet the self-same warbler, 
not as of old, beneath the paternal roof, but under her 
own "vine and fig-tree," and in astonishment we ask 
ourselves, "Can this be the bread-and-butter Miss Ave 
passed by with the insolence of a sneer, a short time 
ago ?" Behold her now! On her brow sits womanhood. 
Upon her features beam out palpably traits of great 
force and originality. She moves with the majesty of 
a queen, and astounds us by taking a leading part in the 
discussion of questions of which we did not deem she 
5 



66 Caxton s Book. 

ever dreamed. What a transformation is liere! Has 
nature proven false to herself ? Is this a miracle ? Are 
all her laws suspended, that she might transform, in an 
instant, a puling trifler into a perfect woman? Not so, 
oh ! doubter. Not nature is false, but you are yourself 
ignorant of her laws. Study Shakspeare; see Gloster 
woo, and win, the defiant, revengeful and embittered 
Lady Anne, and confess in your humility that it is far 
more probable that you should err, than that Shakspeare 
should be mistaken. 

Not many days after the death of M. Marmont, it 
was agreed by all the friends of Lucile, that the kind 
offer extended to her by Pollexfen should be accepted, 
and that she should become domiciliated in his house- 
hold. He was unmarried, it is true, but still he kept 
up an establishment. His housekeeper was a dear old 
lady, Scotch, like her master, but a direct contrast in 
every trait of her character. Her duties were not many, 
nor burdensome. Her time was chiefly occupied in 
family matters — cooking, washing, and feeding the pets 
— so that it was but seldom she made her appearance 
in any other apartment than those entirely beneath her 
own supervision. 

The photographer had an assistant in his business, a 
Chinaman; and upon him devolved the task of caring 
for the outer offices. 

Courtland, with a small stock of money, and still 
smaller modicum of health, left at once for Bidwell's 
Bar, where he thought of trying his fortune once more 
at mining, and where he was well and most cordially 
known. 

It now only remained to accompany Lucile to her new 
home, to see her safely ensconced in her new quarters, 
to speak a flattering word in her favor to Pollexfen, and 



Phases iJi the Life of Johfi Pollexfen. 67 

then, to bid her farewell, perhaps forever. All this was 
duly accomplished, and Avith good-bye on my lips, and 
a sorrowful sympathy in my heart, I turned away from 
the closing door of the photographer, and wended my 
way homewards. 

Mademoiselle Marmont was met at the threshold by 
Martha McClintock, the housekeeper, and ushered at 
once into the inner apartment, situated in the rear of 
the gallery. 

After removing her veil and cloak, she threw her- 
self into an arm-chair, and shading her eyes with both 
her hands, fell into a deep reverie. She had been in 
that attitude but a few moments, when a large Maltese 
cat leaped boldly into her lap, and began to court 
familiarity by purring and playing, as with an old ac- 
quaintance. Lucile cast a casual glance at the animal, 
and noticed immediatel}^ that it had but one eye! Ex- 
pressing no astonishment, but feeling a great deal, she 
cast her eyes cautiously around the apartment. 

Near the window hung a large tin cage, containing a 
blue African parrot, with crimson-tipped shoulders and 
tail. At the foot of the sofa, a silken-haired spaniel was 
quietly sleeping, whilst, outside the window, a bright 
little canary was making the air melodious with its 
happy warbling. A noise in an adjoining room aroused 
the dog, and set it barking. As it lifted its glossy ears 
and turned its graceful head toward Lucile, her surprise 
was enhanced in the greatest degree, by perceiving that 
it, too, had lost an eye. Rising, she approached the 
window, impelled by a curiosity that seemed irresisti- 
ble. Peering into the cage, she coaxed the lazy parrot 
to look at her, and her amazement Avas boundless when 
she observed that the poor bird was marred in the same 
mournful manner. Martha witnessed her astonishment, 



68 Caxton s Book. 

and indulged in a low laugh, but said nothing. At this 
moment Pollexfen himself entered the apartment, and 
with his appearance must terminate the second phase 
of his history. 



PHASE THE THIRD. 

" Come and sit by me, Mademoiselle Marmont," said 
Pollexfen, advancing at the same time to the sofa, and 
politely making way for the young lady, who followed 
almost mechanically. ' ' You m iist not believe me as bad 
as I may seem at jEirst sight, for we all have redeeming 
qualities, if the world would do us the justice to seek for 
them as industriously as for our faults." 

"I am very well able to believe that," replied Lucile, 
"for my dear father instructed me to act upon the maxim, 
that good predominates over evil, even in this life; aud 
I feel sure that I need fear no harm beneath the roof of 
the only real benefactor " 

"Pshaw! we will not bandy compliments at our first 
sitting; they are the prelude amongst men, to hypocrisy 
first, and wrong afterwards. May I so far transgress the 
rules of common politeness as to ask your age? Not from 
idle curiosity, I can assure you." 

"At my next birthday," said Lucile, "I shall attain 
the age of seventeen years." 

"And when may that be?" pursued her interlocutor. 
"I had hoped you were older, by a year." 

"My birthday is the 18th of November, and really, 
sir, I am curious to know why you feel any disappoint- 
ment that I am not older." 

"Oh! nothing of any great consequence; only this, 
that by the laws of California, on reaching the age of 
eighteen you become the sole mistress of yourself." 



Phases hi the Life of yohn Pollexfen. 69 

"I greatly fear," timidly added the girl, "that I shall 
have to anticipate the law, and assume that responsibility 
at once. 

"But you can only contract through a guardian before 
that era in your life; and in the agreement between us, 
that is to be, no third person shall intermeddle. But we 
will not now speak of that. You must consider yourself 
my equal here; there must be no secrets to hide from 
each other; no suspicions engendered. We are both 
artists. Confidence is the only path to mutual improve- 
ment. My business is large, but my ambition to excel 
greater, far. Listen to me, child !" and suddenly rising, 
so as to confront Lucile, he darted one of those magnetic 
glances into the very fortress of her soul, which we have 
before attempted to describe, and added, in an altered 
tone of voice, "The sun's raybrush paints the rainbow 
upon the evanescent cloud, and photographs an iris in 
the skies. The human eye catches the picture ere it 
fades, and transfers it with all its beauteous tints to that 
prepared albumen, the retina. The soul sees it there, 
and rejoices at the splendid spectacle. Shall insenate 
nature outpaint the godlike mind ? Can she leave her 
brightest colors on the dark collodion of a thunder-cloud, 
and I not transfer the blush of a rose, or the vermilion 
of a dahlia, to my Bivi or Saxe? No ! no ! I'll not believe 
it. Let us work together, girl; we'll lead the age we 
live in. My name shall rival Titian's, and you shall 
yet see me snatch the colors of the dying dolphin from 
decay, and bid them live forever." 

And so saying, he turned with a suddenness that 
startled his pupil, and strode hastily out of the apart- 
ment. 

Unaccustomed, as Lucile had been from her very birth, 
to brusque manners, like those of the photographer, 



yo Caxtoji s Book. 

their grotesqueness impressed her witli an indefinable 
relish for such awkward sincerity, and whetted her 
appetite to see more of the man whose enthusiasm always 
got the better of his politeness. 

"He is no Frenchman," thought the girl, "but I like 
him none the less. He has been very, very kind to me, 
and I am at this moment dependent upon him for my 
daily bread." Then, changing the direction of her 
thoughts, they recurred to the subject-matter of Pollex- 
fen's discourse. "Here," thought she, "lies the clue 
to the labyi'inth. If insane, his madness is a noble one; 
for he would link his name Avith the progress of his art. 
He seeks to do away with the necessity of such poor 
creatures as myself, as adjuncts to photography. Nature, 
he thinks, should lay on the coloring, not man — the Sun 
himself should paint, not the human hand." And with 
these, and kindred thoughts, she opened her escritoire, 
and taking out her pencils sat down to the performance 
of her daily labor. 

Oh, blessed curse of Adam's posterity, healthful 
toil, all hail ! Offspring of sin and shame — still heaven's 
best gift to man. Oh, wondrous miracle of Providence! 
divinest alchemy of celestial science! by which the 
chastisement of the progenitor transforms itself into a 
priceless blessing upon the offspring! None but God 
himself could transmute the sweat of the face into a 
panacea for the soul. How many myriads have been 
cured by toil of the heart's sickness and the body's 
infirmities! The clink of the hammer drowns, in its 
music, the lamentations of pain and the sighs of sorrow. 
Even the distinctions of rank and wealth and talents 
are all forgotten, and the inequalities of stepdame For- 
tune all forgiven, whilst the busy whirls of industry are 
bearing us onward to our goal. No condition in life is 



Phases in the Life of yohn Pollexfen. yi 

so much to be envied as his who is too busy to indulge 
in reverie. Health is his companion, happiness his 
friend. Ills flee from his presence as night-birds from 
the streaking of the dawn. Pale Melancholy, and her 
sister Insanity, never invade his dominions; for Mirth 
stands sentinel at the border, and Innocence commands 
the garrison of his soul. 

Henceforth let no man war against fate whose lot has 
been cast in that happy medium, equidistant from the 
lethargic indolence of superabundant wealth, and the 
abject paralysis of straitened poverty. Let them toil 
on, and remember that God is a worker, and strews 
infinity with revolving worlds! Should he forget, in a 
moment of grief or triumph, of gladness or desolation, 
that being born to toil, in labor only shall he find con- 
tentment, let him ask of the rivers why they never rest, 
of the sunbeams why they never pause. Yea, of the 
great globe itself, why it travels on forever in the golden 
pathway of the ecliptic,, and nature, from her thousand 
voices, will respond: Motion is life, inertia is death; 
action is health, stagnation is sickness; toil is glory, 
torpor is disgrace ! 

I cannot say that thoughts as profound as these found 
their way into the mind of Lucile, as she plied her task, 
but nature vindicated her own laws in her case, as she 
will always do, if left entirely to herself. 

As day after day and week after week rolled by, a 
softened sorrow, akin only to grief — 

" As the mist resembles the rain " — 
took the place of the poignant woe which had over- 
whelmed her at first, and time laid a gentle hand upon 
her afilictions. Gradually, too, she became attached to 
her art, and made such rapid strides towards proficiency 



72 Caxtoii s Book. 

that Pollexfen ceased, finally, to give any instruction, or 
offer any hints as to the manner in which she ought to 
paint. Thus her own taste became her only guide; and 
before six months had elapsed after the death of her 
father, the pictures of Pollexfen became celebrated 
throughout the city and state, for the correctness of 
their coloring and the extraordinary delicacy of their 
finish. His gallery was daily thronged with the wealth, 
beauty and fashion of the great metropolis, and the hue 
of his business assumed the coloring of success. 

But his soul was the slave of a single thought. Tur- 
moil brooded there, like darkness over chaos ere the 
light pierced the deep profound. 

Diiring the six months which we have just said had 
elapsed since the domiciliation of Mile. Marmont be- 
neath his roof, he had had many long and perfectly 
frank conversations with her, upon the subject which 
most deeply interested him. She had completely fath- 
omed his secret, and by degrees had learned to sym- 
pathize with him, in his search into the hidden mysteries 
of photographic science. She even became the fre- 
quent companion of his chemical experiments, and 
night after night attended him in his laboratory, when 
the lazy world around them ^yas buried in the profound- 
est repose. 

Still, there was one subject which, hitherto, he had 
not broached, and that was the one in which she felt all 
a woman's curiosity — the offer to purchase an eye. She 
had long since ascertained the story of the one-eyed 
pets in the parlor, and had not only ceased to wonder, 
but was mentally conscious of having forgiven Pollex- 
fen, in her own enthusiasm for art. 

Finally, a whole year elapsed since the death of her 



Phases in the Life of yohn Pollexfen. 73 

father, and no extraordinary cliange took place in the 
relations of the master and his pupil. True, each day 
their intercourse became more unrestrained, and their 
art-association more intimate. But this intimacy was 
not the tie of personal friendship or individual esteem. 
It began in the laboratory, and there it ended. Pollex- 
fen had no soul except for his art; no love outside of 
his profession. Money he seemed to care for but little, 
except as a means of supplying his acids, salts and 
plates. He rigorously tested every metal, in its iodides 
and bromides; industriously coated his plates with every 
substance that could be albumenized, and plunged his 
negatives into baths of every mineral that could be re- 
duced to the form of a vapor. His activity was prodig- 
ious; his iugenuit}' exhaustless, his industry absolutely 
boundless. He was as familiar with chemistry as he 
was with the outlines of the geography of Scotland. 
Every headland, spring and promontory of that science 
he knew by heart. The most delicate experiments he 
performed with ease, and the greatest rapidit3\ Na- 
ture seemed to have endowed him with a native apti- 
tude for analj'sis. His love was as profound as it was 
read}'; in fact, if there was anything he detested more 
than loud laughter, it was superficiality. He instinct- 
ively pierced at once to the roots and sources of things; 
and never rested, after seeing an effect, until he groped 
his way back to the cause. " Never stand still," he 
Avould often say to his pupil, "where the ground is 
boggy. Keach the rock before you rest." This maxim 
was the great index to his character; the key to all his 
researches. 

Time fled so rapidly, and to Lucile so pleasantly, too, 
that she had reached the very verge of her legal matur- 



74 Caxtori s Book. 

ity before she once deigned to bestow a thought upon 
what change, if any, her eighteenth birthday would 
bring about. A few days preceding her accession to- 
majority, a large package of letters from France, via 
New York, arrived, directed to M. Marmont himself, 
and evidently written without a knowledge of his death. 
The bundle came to my care, and I hastened at once to 
deliver it, personally, to the blooming and really beau- 
tiful Lucile, I had not seen her for many months, and 
was surprised to find so great an improvement in her 
health and appearance. Her manners were more 
marked, her conversation more rapid and decided, and 
the general contour of her form far more womanly. It 
required only a moment's interview to convince me that 
she possessed unquestioned talent of a high order, and 
a spirit as imperious as a queen's. Those famous eyes 
of hers, that had, nearly two years before, attracted in 
such a remarkable manner the attention of Pollexfen, 
had not failed in the least; on the contrary, time had 
intensified their power, and given them a de[)th of 
meaning and a dazzling brilliancy that rendered them 
almost insufferably bright. It seemed to me that con- 
tact with the magnetic gaze of the photographer had 
lent them something of his, own expression, and I con- 
fess that when my eye met hers fully and steadily, mine 
was always the first to droop. 

Knowing that she was in full correspondence with 
her lover, I asked after Courtland, and she finally told 
me all she knew. He was still suffering from the 
effect of the assassin's blow, and very recently had been 
attacked by inflammatory rheumatism. His health 
seemed permanently impaired, and Lucile wept bitterly 
as she spoke of the poverty in which they were both 



/iiascs in the Life of JoJdi Pollexfeji. 75 

plunged, and wliicli prevented him from essaying the 
only remedy that ])roinised a radical cure. 

" Oh ! '' exclaimed she, " were it only in our power to 
visit La belle France, to bask in the sunshine of Dau- 
phiny, to sport amid the lakes of the Alps, to repose 
beneath the elms of Chalons!" 

" Perhaps," said I, "the ver}^ letters now unopened 
in your hands may invite you back to the scenes of 
your childhood." 

"Alas! no," she rejoined, "I recognize the hand- 
writing of iLy widowed aunt, and I tremble to break 
the seal." 

Rising shoitly afterwards, I bade her a sorrowful 
faiewell. 

Lucile sought lior piivate apartment before she ven- 
tured to unseal the dispatches. Many of the letters 
Avere old, and had baen floating between New York and 
Havre for more than a twelvemonth. One was of re- 
cent date, and that was the first one perused by the 
niece. Below is a free translation of its contents. It 
bore date at " Bordeaux, July 12, 1853," and ran thus: 

EVKR DKAU AND BEI.OVKD BrOTIIKU : 

Why have we never heard from you since the beginning of 
1851? Alas! I fear some terrible misfortune has overtaken 
you, and overwhelmed your whole family. Many times 
have I written during that long period, and prayed, oh! so 
promptly, that God would take you, and yours, in His holy 
keeping. And then our dear Lucile! Ah! whatalifemust 
be in store for her, in that wild and distant land! Beg of 
her to return to France; and do not fail, also, to come 
yi)urself. We have a new Emperor, as you must long since 
have learned, in the person of Louis I3onaparte, nephew 
of tlie great Napoleon. Your reactit)uist })rineiples against 
Cavaignac and his colleagues, can be of no disservice to you 
at present. Napoleon is lenient. He has even recalled 
Louis Blanc. Come, and apply for restitution of the old 



76 Caxton s Book. 

■estates; come, and be a protector of my seven orphans, 
now, alas! suffering even for the common necessaries of life. 
Need a fond sister say more to her only living brother? 
Thine, as in childhood, 

Annette. 

"Misfortunes pour like a pitiless winter storm upon 
my devoted head," thought Lucile, as she replaced the 
letter in its envelope. "Parents dead; aunt broken- 
hearted; cousins starving, and I not able to afford 
relief. I cannot even moisten their sorrows with a tear. 
I would weep, but rebellion against fate rises in my 
soul, and dries up the fountain of tears. Had Heaven 
made me a man it would not have been thus. I have 
something here," she exclaimed, rising from her seat 
and placing her hand upon her forehead, "that tells 
me I could do and dare, and endure." 

Her further soliloquy was here interrupted by a dis- 
tinct rap at her door, and on pronouncing the word 
"enter," Pollexfen, for the first time since she became 
a member of his famil}', strode heavily into lier cham- 
ber. Lucile did not scream, or protest, or manifest 
either surprise or displeasure at this unwonted and un- 
invited visit. She politely pointed to a seat, and the 
photographer, wathout apology or hesitation, seized the 
chair, and moving it so closely to her own that they 
came in contact, Seated himself without uttering a syl- 
lable. Then, drawing a document from his breast 
pocket, which was folded formally, and sealed with two 
seals, but subscribed only with one name, he proceeded 
to read it from beginning to end, in a slow, distinct, 
and unfaltering tone. 

I have the document before me, as I write, and I 
here insert a full and correct copy. It bore date just 
one month subsequent to the time of the intervicAV, and 



Phases in the Life of yohn Pollexfen. yj 

was intended, doubtless, to afibrd bis pupil full oppor- 
tunity for consultation before requesting lier signature r 

%\\H l^urtClltUVf, Made this nineteenth day of November, 
A. D. 1853, by John Pollexfen, photographer, of the first part, 
and Lucile Marmont, artiste, of the second part, both of the 
city of San Francisco, and State of California, Witnesseth: 

Whereas, the party of the first part is desirous of obtain- 
ing a living, sentient, human eye, of perfect organism, and 
unquestioned strength, for the sole purpose of chemical 
analysis and experiment in the lawful prosecution of his 
studies as photograph chemist. And whereas, the party of 
the second part can supjjly the desideratum aforesaid. And 
whereas further, the first party is willing to purchase, and 
the second party willing to sell the same: 

Now, THEREFORE, the Said John Pollexfen, for and in con- 
sideration of such eye, to be by him safely and instanta- 
neously removed from its left socket, at the rooms of said 
Pollexfen, on Monday, November 19, at the hour of eleven 
o'clock p. M., hereby undertakes, promises and agrees, to pay 
unto the said Lucile Marmont, in current coin of the United 
States, in advance, the full and just sum of seven thousand 
five hundred dollars. And the said Lucile Marmont, on her 
part, hereby agrees and covenants to sell, and for and in 
consideration of the said sum of seven thousand and five 
hundred dollars, does hereby sell, unto the said Pollexfen, 
her left eye, as aforesaid, to be by him extracted, in time, 
place and manner above set forth ; only stipulating on her 
part, further, that said money shall be dejiosited in the 
Bank of Page, Bacon & Co. on the morning of that day, in 
the name of her attorney and agent, Thomas J. Falconer, 
Esq., for her sole and separate use. 

As witness our hands and seals, this nineteenth day of 
November, a. d. 1853. 

(Signed) John Pollexfen, [l. s.l 
[i^-s.] 

Having finished the perusal, the photographer looked 
up, and the eyes of his pupil encountered his own. 

And here terminates the third phase in the history of 
John Pollexfen. 



78 Caxtons Book. 

PHASE THE rOUKTH. 

The confronting glance of the master and his pupil 
was not one of those casual encounters of the eye 
which lasts but for a second, and terminates in the 
almost instantaneous withdrawal of the vanquislied orb. 
On the contrary, the scrutiny was long and painful. 
Each seemed determined to conquer, and both knew 
that flight was defeat, and quailing ruin. The pliotog- 
rapher felt a consciousness of su[)eriority in himself, 
in his cause and his intentions. These being pure and 
<3ommendable, he experienced no sentiment akin to the 
weakness of guilt. The girl, on the other hand, strug- 
gled with the emotions of terror, curiosit}' and defiance. 
He thought, "Will she yield?" 8he, "Is this man in 
earnest?" Neither seemed inclined to speak, yet both 
grew impatient. 

Nature finally vindicated her own law, that the most 
powerful intellect must magnetize the weaker, and 
Lucile, dropping her eye, said, with a sickened smile, 
*'Sir, are you jesting?" 

"I am incapable of trickery," dryly responded 
Pollexfen. 

" But not of delusion ?" suggested the girl. 

"A fool may be deceived, a chemist never." 

" And you would have the fiendish cruelty to tear out 
one of my eyes before I am dead ? Why, even the vul- 
ture waits till his prey is carrion." 

"I am not cruel," he responded ; "I labor under no 
delusion. I pursue no phantom. Where I now stand 
experiment forced me. With the rigor of a mathemati- 
cal demonstration I have been driven to the proposition 
set forth in this agreement. Nature cannot lie. The 
earth revolves because it must. Causation controls the 



Phases in the Life of John Pollexfen. 79 

luiiiverse. Men speak of accidents, but a fortuitous cir- 
cumstance never happened since matter moved at the 
fiat of the Almighty. Is it chance that the prism decom- 
poses a ray of light ? Is it chance, that by mixing 
hydrogen and oxygen in the proportion of two to one 
ill volume, water should be the result? How can 
Nature err ?" 

" She cannot," Lucile responded, "but man may." 
"That argues that I, too, am but human, and may fall 
into the common category." 
"Such was my thought." 

"Then banish the idea forever. I deny not that I am 
but mortal, but man was made in the image of God. 
Truth is as clear to the perception of the creature, ivhen 
Men at all, as it is to that of the Creator. What is man 
but a fiuite God? He moves about his little universe 
its sole monarch, and with all the absoluteness of a deity, 
controls its motions and settles its destiny. He may 
not be able to number the sands on the seashore, but 
he can count his flocks and herds. He may not create 
a comet, or overturn a world, but he can construct the 
springs of a watch, or the wheels of a mill, and they 
obey him as submissively as globes revolve about their 
centres, or galaxies tread in majesty the measureless 
fields of space! 

"For years," exclaimed he, rising to his feet, and 
fixing his eagle glance upon his pupil, "for long and 
weary years, I have studied the laws of light, color, and 
motion. Why are my pictures sharper in outline, and 
truer to nature, than those of rival artists around me ? 
Poor fools! whilst they slavishly copied what nobler 
natures taught, I boldly trod in unfamiliar paths. I 
invented, whilst they traveled on the beaten highway. 
Xiook at my lenses! They use glass — yes, common glass 



8o Caxtoii s Book. 

— with a spectral power of 10, because they catch up- 
the childish notion of Dawson, and Harwick, that it is 
impossible to prepare the most beautiful substance in 
nature, next to the diamond — crystalized quartz — for the 
purposes of art. "Yet quartz has a power of refraction 
equal to 74! Could John Pollexfen sleep quietl}^ in his 
bed whilst such an outrage was being perpetrated daily 
against God and His universe? No! Lucile; never! 
Yon snowy hills conceal in their bosoms treasures far 
richer than the sheen of gold. With a single bhist I 
tore away a ton of crystal. How I cut and polished it- 
is my secret, not the world's. The result crowds my 
gallery daily, whilst theirs are half deserted." 

"And are you not satisfied with your success?" de- 
manded the girl, whose own eye began to dilate, and 
gleam, as it caught the kindred spark of enthusiasm 
from the flaming orbs of Pollexfen. 

"Satisfied!" cried he; "satisfied! Not until my camera 
flashes back the silver sheen of the planets, and the 
golden twinkle of the stars. Not until earth and all her 
daughters can behold themselves in yon mirror, clad in 
their radiant robes. Not until each hue of the rainbow, 
each tint of the flower, and the fitful glow of roseate 
beauty, changeful as the tinge of summer sunsets, have 
all been captured, copied, and embalmed forever by the 
triumphs of the human mind! Least of all, could I be 
satisfied now at the very advent of a nobler era in my 
art." 

" And do you really believe,'' inquired Lucile, " that 
color can be photographed as faithfully as light and 
shade ?" 

"Believe, girl? I know it. Does not your own 
beautiful eye print upon its retina tints, dyes and hues 
innumerable ? And what is the eye but a lens ? God 



Phases in the Life of J'ohi Pollexfefi. 8 1 

was the first photographer. Give me but a living, sen- 
tient, perfect human eye to dissect and analyze, and I 
swear by the holy book of science that I will detect 
the secret, though hidden deep down in the primal 
particles of matter." 

" And why a human eye? Why not an eagle's or a 
lion's ?" 

"A question I once propounded to myself, and never 
rested till it was solved," replied Pollexfen. "Go into 
my parlor, and ask my pets if I have not been diligent, 
faithful, and honest. I have tested every eye but the 
human. From the dull shark's to the imperial con- 
dor's, I have tried them all. Months elapsed ere I dis- 
covered the error in my reasoning. Finally, a little 
boy explained it all. ' Mother,' said a child, in my 
hearing, ' when the pigeons mate, do they choose the 
prettiest birds?' 'No,' said his mother. 'And why 
not ?' pursued the boy. Because, responded I, waking 
as from a dream, iliey have no perception of color ! The 
animal world sports in light and shade; the human only 
rejoices in the apprehension of color. Does the horse 
admire the rainbow ? or does the ox spare the butter- 
cup and the violet, because they are beautiful ? The 
secret lies in the human eye alone. An eye! an eye! 
give me but one, Lucile!" 

As the girl was about to answer, the photographer 
again interposed, " Not now; I want no answer now; I 
give you a month for reflection." And so saying, he 
left the room as unceremoniously as he had entered. 

The struggle in the mind of Lucile was sharp and 
decisive. Dependent herself upon her daily labor, her 
lover an invalid, and her nearest kindred starving, were 
facts that spoke in deeper tones than the thunder to her 
soul. Besides, was not one eye to be spared her, 
6 



82 Caxtons Book. 

and was not a single eye quite as good as two ? She 
thought, too, how glorious it would be if Pollexfen 
should not be mistaken, and she herself should con- 
duce so essentially to the noblest triumph of the pho- 
tographic art. 

A shade, however, soon overspread her glowing face, 
as the unbidden idea came forward: "And will my 
lover still be faithful to a mutilated bride? Will not 
my beauty be marred forever ? But," thought she, "is 
not this sacrifice for him ? Oh, yes ! we shall cling still 
more closely in consequence of the very misfortune that 
renders our union possible," One other doubt sug- 
gested itself to her mind: "Is this contract legal? Can 
it be enforced ? If so," and here her compressed lips, 
her dilated nostril, and her clenched hand betokened 
her decision, ^'if so, 1 yield!'''' 

Three weeks passed quickly away, and served but 
to strengthen the determination of Lucile. At the ex- 
piration of that period, and just one week before the 
time fixed for the accomplishment of this cruel scheme, 
I was interrupted, during the trial of a cause, by the 
entry of my clerk, with a short note from Mademoiselle 
Marmont, requesting ni}^ immediate presence at the 
office. Apologizing to the judge, and to my associate 
counsel, I hastily left the court-room. 

On entering, I found Lucile completely veiled. Nor 
was it possible, during our interview, to catch a single 
glimpse of her features. She rose, and advancing to- 
ward me, extended her hand; whilst pressing it I felt it 
tremble. 

"Eead this document, Mr. Falconer, and advise me 
as to its legality. I seek no counsel as to my duty. My 
mind is unalterably fixed on that subject, and I beg of 
you, as a favor, in advance, to spare yourself the trouble, 
and me the pain, of reopening it." 



Phases hi the Life of Johit Pollexfen. 83 

If the speech, and the tone in which it was spoken, 
surprised me, I need not state how overwhelming was 
my astonishment at the contents of the document. I 
was absolutely stunned. The paper fell from my hands 
as though they were paralyzed. Seeing my embarrass- 
ment, Lucile rose and paced the room in an excited 
manner. Finally pausing, opposite my desk, she in- 
quired, "Do you require time to investigate the law?" 

"Not an instant," said I, recovering my self-posses- 
sion. "This paper is not only illegal, but the execu- 
tion of it an offense. It provides for the perpetration 
of the crime of mayhem, and it is my duty, as a good 
citizen, to arrest the wretch who can contemplate so 
heinous and inhuman an act, without delay. See! he 
has even had the insolence to insert my own name as 
paymaster for his villainy." 

"I did not visit your office to'hear my benefactor and 
friend insulted," ejaculated the girl, in a bitter and de- 
fiant tone. "I only came to get an opinion on a matter 
of law." 

"But this monster is insane, utterly crazy," retorted 
I. "He ought, this moment, to be in a madhouse." 

"Where they did put Tasso, and tried to put Gali- 
leo," she rejoined. 

' ' In the name of the good God !" said I, solemnly, 
"are you in earnest?" 

"Were I not, I should not be here." 
• ' ' Then our conversation must terminate just where it 
began." 

Lucile deliberately took her seat at my desk, and 
seizing a pen hastily affixed her signature to the agree- 
ment, and rising, left the office without uttering another 
syllable. 

"I have, at least, the paper," thought I, " and that I 
intend to ke'ep." 



84 Caxton s Book. 

My plans were soon laid. I sat down and addressed 
a most pressing letter to Mr. Courtland, informing him 
fully of the plot of the lunatic, for so I then regarded 
him, and urged him to hasten to San Francisco without 
a moment's delay. Then, seizing my hat, I made a most 
informal call on Dr. White, and consulted him as to 
the best means of breaking through the conspiracy. 
We agreed at once that, as Pollexfen had committed no 
overt act in violation of law, he could not be legally 
arrested, but that information must be lodged with the 
chief of police, requesting him to detail a trustworthy 
officer, whose duty it should be to obey us implicitly^ 
and be ready to act at a moment's notice. 

All this was done, and the officer duly assigned for 
duty. His name was Cloudsdale. We explained to him 
fully the nature of the business intrusted to his keep- 
ing, and took great pains to impress upon him the ne- 
cessity of vigilance and fidelity. He entered into the 
scheme with alacrity, and was most profuse in his. 
promises. 

Our settled plan was to meet at the outer door of the 
photographer's gallery, at half-past ten o'clock P.M., on 
the 19th of November, 1853, and shortly afterwards to 
make our way, by stratagem or force, into the presence 
of Pollexfen, and arrest him on the spot. We hoped to 
find such preparations on hand as would justify the 
arrest, and secure his punishment. If not, Lucile was 
to be removed, at all events, and conducted to a place 
of safety. Such was the general outline. During the 
week we had frequent conferences, and Cloudsdale 
efiected an entrance, on two occasions, upon some slight 
pretext, into the room of the artist. But he could dis- 
cover nothing to arouse suspicion; so, at least, he in- 
formed us. During the morning of the 19th, a warrant 



Phases in the Life of Johii Pollexfen. 85 

of arrest was duly issued, and lodged in the hands of 
Cloudsdale for execution. He then bade us good morn- 
ing, and urged us to be promptly' on the ground at half- 
past ten. He told us that he had another arrest to make 
on the Sacramento boat, when she arrived, but would 
not be detained five minutes at the police office. This 
was annoying, but we submitted with the best grace 
possible. 

During the afternoon, I got another glimpse at our 
"trusty." The steamer left for Panama at one p.m., 
and I went on board to bid adieu to a friend who was a 
passenger. 

Cloudsdale was also there, and seemed anxious and 
restive. He told me that he was on the lookout for a 
highway robber, who had been tracked to the city, and 
it might be possible that he Avas stowed away secretly 
on the ship. Having business up town, I soon left, and 
went away with a heavy heart. 

As night approached I grew more and more nervous, 
for the part}' most deeply interested in preventing this 
<3rirae had not made his appearance. Mr. Co\irtland 
had not reached the city. Sickness, or the miscarriage 
of my letter, was doubtless the cause. 

The Doctor and myself supped together, and then 
proceeded to my chambers, where we armed ourselves 
as heavily as though we were about to fight a battle. 
We were both silent. The enormity of Pollexfen's con- 
templated crime struck us dumb. The evening, however, 
wore painfully away, and finally our watches pointed to 
the time when we should take our position, as before 
agreed upon. 

We were the first on the ground. This we did not 
specially notice then; but when five, then ten, and next, 



86 Caxto7i s Book. 

fifteen minutes elapsed, and the ofiicer still neglected to 
make his appearance, our uneasiness became extreme. 
Twenty — tiuenty-five minutes passed; still Cloudsdale 
was unaccountably detained. "Can he be already in 
the rooms above?" we eagerly asked one another. 
"Are we not betrayed ?" exclaimed I, almost frantically. 

"We have no time to spare in discussiou," replied the 
Doctor, and, advancing, we tried the door. It was. 
locked. We had brought a step-ladder, to enter by the 
window, if necessary. Next, we endeavored to hoist 
the window; it was nailed down securely. Leaping to 
the ground we made an impetuous, united onset against 
the door; but it resisted all our efforts to burst it in. 
Acting now with all the promptitude demanded by the 
occasion, we mounted the ladder, and by a simultaneous- 
movement broke the sash, and leaped into the room. 
Groping our way hurriedly to the stairs, we had placed 
our feet upon the first step, when our ears were saluted 
with one long, loud, agonizing shriek. The next instant 
we rushed into the apartment of Lucile, and beheld a 
sight that seared our own eyeballs wath horror, and 
bafiies any attempt at description. 

Before our faces stood the ferocious demon, holding 
in his arms the fainting girl, and hurriedly clipping, 
with a pair of shears, the last muscles and integuments 
which held the organ in its place. 

"Hold! for God's sake, hold!" shouted Dr. White, 
and instantly grappled with the giant. Alas! alas! it 
was too late, forever! The w^ork had been done; the 
eye torn, bleeding, from its socket, and just as the Doc- 
tor laid his arm upon Pollexfen, the ball fell, dripping 
with gore, into his left hand. 

This is the end of the fourth phase. 



Phases ijt the Life of John Pollexfen. 87 

PHASE THE FIFTH, AND LAST. 

"Monster," cried I, "we arrest you for the crime of 
mayliem," 

" Perhaps, gentlemen," said the photographer, " you 
will be kind enough to exhibit your warrant." As he 
said this, he drew from his pocket with his right hand, 
the writ of arrest which had been intrusted to Clouds- 
dale, and deliberately lighting it in the candle, burned 
it to ashes before we could arrest his movement. Lucile 
had fallen upon a ready prepared bed, in a fit of pain, 
and fainting. The Doctor took his place[at her side, his 
own eyes streaming with tears, and his very soul heav- 
ing with agitation. 

As for me, my heart was beating as audibly as a drum. 
With one hand I grappled the collar of Pollexfen, and 
with the other held a cocked pistol at his head. 

He stood as motionless as a statue. Not a nerve 
trembled nor a tone faltered, as he spoke these words: 
"I am most happy to see you, gentlemen; especially 
the Doctor, for he can relieve me of the duties of sur- 
geon. You, sir, can assist him as nurse." And shaking 
off my hold as though it had been a child's, he sprang 
into the laboratory adjoining, and locked the door as 
quick as thought. 

The insensibility of Lucile did not last long. Con- 
sciousness returned gradually, and with it pain of the 
most intense description. Still she maintained a rigid- 
ness of feature, and an intrepidity of soul that excited 
both sorrow and admiration. "Poor child! poor 
child ! " was all we could utter, and even that spoken 
in whispers. Suddenly a noise in the laboratory at- 
tracted attention. Kising, I went close to the door. 

"Two to one in measure; eight to one in weight; 



88 Caxton s Book. 

water, only water," soliloquized the photographer. Then 
silence. "Phosphorus; yellow in color; burns in oxy- 
gen." Silence again. 

" Good God!" cried I, " Doctor, he is analyzing her 
eye ! The fiend is actually performing his incantations !" 

A m'oment elapsed. A sudden, sharp explosion; then 
a fall, as if a chair had been upset, and 

"Carbon in combustion! Carbon in combustion!" 
in a wild, excited tone, broke from the lips of Pollexfen, 
and the instant afterwards he stood at the bedside of his 
pupil. " Lucile! Lucile! the secret is ours; ours only!" 

At the sound of his voice the girl lifted herself from 
her pillow, whilst he proceeded: " Carbon in combus- 
tion; I saw it ere the light died from the eyeball." 

A smile lighted the pale face of the girl as she faintly 
responded, " Eegulus gave both eyes for his country; 
I have given but one for my art." 

Pressing both hands to my throbbing brow, I asked 
myself, " Can this be real? Do I dream? If real, why 
do I not assassinate the fiend? Doctor," said I, "we 
must move Lucile. I will seek assistance." 

"Not so," responded Pollexfen; the excitement of 
motion might bring on erysipelas, or still worse, tetanus. 

A motion from Lucile brought me to her bedside. 
Taking from beneath her pillow a bank deposit-book, 
and placing it in my hands, she requested me to hand 
it to Courtland the moment of his arrival, which she 
declared would be the 20th, and desire him to read the 
billet attached to the banker's note of the deposit. 
"Tell him," she whispered, "not to love me less in 
my mutilation;" and again she relapsed into uncon- 
sciousness. 

The photographer now bent over the senseless form 
of his victim, and muttering, "Yes, carbon in combus- 
tion," added, in a softened tone, "Poor girl !" As he 



Phases in the Life of John Pollexfen. 89 

lifted his face, I detected a solitary tear covirse down 
liis impressive features. "The first I have shed," said 
he, sternly, " since my daughter's death." 

Saying nothing, I could only think — "And this wretch 
once had a child ! " 

The long night through we stood around her bed. 
"With the dawn, Martha, the housekeeper, returned, and 
we then learned, for the first time, with what consum- 
mate skill Pollexfen had laid all his plans. For even 
the housekeeper had been sent out of the way, and on 
a fictitious pretense that she was needed at the bedside 
of a friend, whose illness was feigned for the occasion. 
Nor was the day over before we learned with certainty, 
but no longer with surprise, that Cloudsdale was on his 
way to Panama, with a bribe in his pocket. 

As soon as it was safe to remove Lucile, she was borne 
on a litter to the hospital of Dr. Peter Smith, where she 
received every attention that her friends could bestow. 

Knowing full well, from what Lucile had told me, 
that Courtland would be down in the Sacramento boat, 
I awaited his arrival with the greatest impatience. I 
could onl}'' surmise what would be his course. But 
judging from my own feelings, I could not doubt that 
it would be both desperate and decisive. 

Finally, the steamer rounded to, and the next moment 
the pale, emaciated form of the youth sank, sobbing, 
into my arms. Other tears mingled with his own. 

The story was soon told. Eagerly, most eagerly, 
Courtland read the little note accompanying the bank- 
book. It was very simple, and ran thus : 

My own life's Life : Forgive the first, and only act, that 
you will ever disapprove of in the conduct of your mutilated 
but loving- Lucile. Ah ! can I still hope for your love, in 
the future, as in the past? Give me but that assurance, and 
death itself would be welcome. 

L. M. 



90 Caxton s Book. 

We parted yery late ; he going to a hotel, I to the 
bedside of the wounded girl. Onr destinies would have- 
been reversed, but the surgeon's order was imperative^ 
that she should see no one whose presence might con- 
duce still further to bring on inflammation of the brain» 

The next day, Courtland was confined to his bed until 
late in the afternoon, when he dressed, and left the 
hotel. I saw him no more until the subsequent day. 
Why, it now becomes important to relate. 

About eight o'clock in the evening of the 21st, the 
day after his arrival, Courtland staggered into the gal- 
lery, or rather the den of John Pollexfen. He had no- 
other arms than a short double-edged dagger, and this- 
he concealed in his sleeve. 

They had met before; as he sometimes went there,, 
anterior to the death of M. Marmont, to obtain the 
photographs upon which Lucile was experimenting, pre- 
vious to her engagement by the artist. 

Pollexfen manifested no surprise at his visit; indeed^ 
his manner indicated that it had been anticipated. 

"You have come into my house, young man," slowly 
enunciated the photographer, " to take my life." 

"I do not deny it," replied Courtland. 

As he said this, he took a step forward. Pollexfeii 
threw open his vest, raised himself to his loftiest height, 
and solemnly said: "Fire! or strike! as the case may 
be; I shall offer no resistance. I only beg of you, as- 
a gentleman, to hear me through before you play the 
part of assassin." 

Their eyes met. The struck lamb gazing at the eaglet 
Vengeance encountering Paith ! The pause was but mo- 
mentary. "I will hear you," said Courtland, sinking, 
into a chair, already exhausted b}' his passion. 

Pollexfen did not move. Confronting the lover, he 



Phases in the Life of fohn Pollexfen. 9 1 

told his story truthfully to the end. He plead for his- 
life; for he felt the proud consciousness of having per- 
formed an act of duty that bordered upon the heroic. 

Still, there was no relenting in the eye of Courtland. 
It had that expression in it that betokens blood. Csesar 
saw it as Brutus lifted his dagger. Henry of Navarre 
recognized it as the blade of Eavillac sank into his 
heart. Joaquin beheld it gleaming in the vengeful 
orbs of Harry Love! Pollexfen, too, understood the 
language that it spoke. 

Dropping his hands, and taking one stride toward the 
young man, he sorrowfully said: "I have but one word 
more to utter. Your affianced bride has joyfully sacri- 
ficed one of her lustrous eyes to science. In doing so, 
she expressed but one regret, that you, whom she loved 
better than vision, or even life, might, as the years roll 
away, forget to love her in her mutilation as you did in 
her beauty. Perfect yourself, she feared mating with 
imperfection might possibly estrange your heart. Your 
superiority in personal appearance might constantly 
disturb the perfect equilibrium of love." 

He ceased. The covert meaning was seized with 
lightning rapidity by Courtland. Springing to his feet,, 
he exclaimed joyfully: "The sacrifice must be mutual. 
God never created a soul that could outdo Charles- 
Courtland's in generosity." 

Flinging his useless dagger upon the floor, he threw 
himself into the already extended arms of the photog- 
rapher, and begged him "to be quick with the opera- 
tion." The artist required no second invitation, and 
ere the last words died upon his lips, the sightless ball 
of his left eye swung from its socket. 

There was no cry of pain; no distortion of the young 
man's features with agony; no moan, or sob, or sigh. 



92 Caxtoii s Book. 

As lie closed firmly his right eye, and compressed his 
pallid lips, a joyous smile lit up his whole countenauce 
that told the spectator how superior even human love 
is to the body's anguish; how willingly the severest 
■sacrifice falls at the beck of honor! 

I shall attempt no description of the manner in which 
I received the astounding news from the lips of the 
imperturbable Pollexfen; nor prolong this narrative by 
detailing the meeting of the lovers, their gradual re- 
covery, their marriage, and their departure for the vales 
■of Dauphiuy. It is but Just to add, however, that Pol- 
lexfen added two thousand five hundred dollars to the 
bank account of Mademoiselle Marmont, on the day of 
her nuptials, as a bridal present, given, no doubt, par- 
tially as a compensation to the heroic husband for his 
Yoluntary mutilation. 

Long months elapsed after the departure of Lucile 
and her lover before the world heard anything more of 
the photographer. 

One day, however, in tlie early spring of the next 
season, it was observed that Pollexfen had opened a new 
and most magnificent gallery upon Montgomery Street, 
and had painted prominently upon his sign, these words: 



John Pollexfen, Photographer. 

Discoverer of the Carbon Process, 
By which Colored Pictures are Painted by the Sun. 



The news of this invention spread, in a short time, 
over the whole civilized world; and the Emperor Napo- 
leon the Third, with the liberality characteristic of great 
princes, on hearing from the lips of Lucile a fall ac- 
■count of this wonderful discovery, revived, in favor of 



Phases in the Life of John Poll ex/en. 95 

John Pollesfen, the pension wliicli had been bestowed 
upon Nie'pce, and which had lapsed by his death, in 
1839; and with a magnanimity that wonld have rendered 
still more illustrious his celebrated uncle, revoked the^ 
decree of forfeiture against the estates of M. Marmont^ 
and bestowed them, with a corresponding title of no- 
bility, upon Lucile and her issue. 

This ends my story. I trust the patient reader will 
excuse its length, for it was all necessary, in order to- 
explain how John Pollexfen made his fortune. 




VI. 

THE LOVE KNOT. 

TTPON my bosom lies 

A knot of blue and gray; 
You ask me why tears fill my eyes 
As low to you I say : 

" I had two brothers once, 

Warmhearted, bold and gay; 
They left my side — one Avore the blue, 

The other wore the gray. 

One rode with " Stonewall " and his men, 

And joined his fate with Lee; 
The other followed Sherman's march. 

Triumphant to the sea. 

Both fought for what they deemed the right. 

And died with sword in hand; 
One sleeps amid Virginia's hills. 

And one in Georgia's laud. 

"Why should one's dust be consecrate. 
The other's spurned with scorn — 

Both victims of a common fate, 
Twins cradled, bred and born ? 

Oh! tell me not — a patriot one, 

A traitor vile the other; 
John was my mother's favorite son, 

But Eddie was my brother. 

The same sun shines above their gi'aves. 
My love unchanged must stay — 

And so upon my bosom lies 
Love's kuot of blue and gray." 






I 



YII. 

THE AZTEC PRINCESS. 

"Speaking marble." — Byeon. 

CHAPTER I. 

N common with manj' of our countrymen, my atten- 
tion has been powerfully drawn to tlie subject of 
American antiquities, ever since tlie publication of the 
i;voiiderful discoveries made by Stephens and Norman 
among the ruins of Uxmal and Palenque. 

Yucatan and Chiapas have alwaj's spoken to my im- 
agination more forcibly' than Egypt or Babylon; and in 
my early dreams of ambition I aspired to emulate the 
fame of Champollion le Jeune, and transmit my name 
to posterity on the same page with that of the de- 
cipherer of the hieroglyphics on the pyramids of 
<jrliizeh. 

The fame of warriors and statesmen is transient and 
mean, when compared to that of those literary colossii 
M'hose herculean labors have turned back upon itself the 
tide of oblivion, snatched the sc3'the from the hands of 
Death, and, reversing the duties of the fabled Charon, 
are now^ busily engaged in ferrying back again across 
the Styx the shades of the illustrious dead, and landing 
them securely upon the shores of true immortality, the 
«ver-living Present! Even the laurels of the poet and 
orator, the historian and philosopher, wither, and 

" Pale their ineffectual tires " 
in the presence of that superiority — truly godlike in its 
-attributes — which, wdth one wave of its matchless wand, 



96 Caxto7i s Book. 

conjures up whole realms, reconstructs majestic em- 
pires, peoples desolate wastes — voiceless but yesterday, 
save with the shrill cry of the bitteru — and, contem- 
plating the midnight darkness shrouding Thebes and 
Nineveh, cries aloud, "Let there be light!" and suddenly 
Thotmes starts from his tomb, the dumb pyramids 
become vocal, Nimroud wakes from his sleep of four 
thousand years, and, springing upon his battle-horse, 
once more leads forth his armies to conquest and glory. 
The unfamiliar air learns to repeat accents, forgotten 
ere the foundations of Troy were laid, and resounds 
once more with the echoes of a tongue in which old 
Menes wooed his bride, long before Noah was com- 
manded to build the Ark, or the first rainbow smiled 
upon the cloud. 

All honor, then, to the shades of Young and Champol- 
lion, Lepsius and De Lacy, Figeac and Layard. Alex- 
ander and Napoleon conquered kingdoms, but they were 
ruled by the living. On the contrary, the heroes I have 
mentioned vanquished mighty realms, governed alone 
by the 

"Monarch of the Scythe and Glass," 

that unsubstantial king, who erects his thrones on 
broken columns and fallen domes, waves his sceptre 
over dispeopled wastes, and builds his capitals amid 
the rocks of Petraea and the catacombs of Egypt. 

Such being the object of my ambition, it will not 
appear surprising that I embraced every opj)ortuuity to 
enlarge my knowledge of my favorite subject — American 
Antiquities — and eagerly perused every new volume 
purporting to throw an}'^ light upon it. I was per- 
fectly familiar with the works of Lord Kingsborough 
and Dr. Bobertson before I was fifteen years of age,. 



The Aztec Princess. 97 

and Lad studied the explorations of Bernal Diaz, Wal- 
deck, and Dnpaix, before I was twenty. My delight, 
therefore, was boundless when a copy of Stephens's 
travels in Yucatan and Chiapas fell into my hands, and 
I devoured his subsequent publications on the same 
subject with all the aviditj'^ of an enthusiast. Nor did 
my labors stop here. Yery early I saw the importance 
of an acquaintance with aboriginal tongues, and imme- 
diately set about mastering the researches of Humboldt 
and Schoolcraft. This was easily done ; for I discov- 
ered, much to my chagrin and disappointment, that but 
little is known of the languages of the Indian tribes, 
and that little is soon acquired. Dissatisfied with such 
information as could be gleaned from books only, I ap- 
plied for and obtained an agency for dispensing Indian 
rations among the Cherokees and Ouchitaws, and set 
out for Fort ToAvson in the spring of 1848. 

Soon after my arrival I left the fort, and took up my 
residence at the wigwam of Sac-a-ra-sa, one of the prin- 
cipal chiefs of the Cherokees. My intention to make 
myself familiar with the Indian tongues was noised 
abroad, and every facility was afibrded me by my hos- 
pitable friends. I took long voyages into the interior of 
the continent, encountered delegations from most of the 
western tribes, and familiarized myself with almost every 
dialect spoken by the Indians dwelling west of the Kocky 
Mountains. I devoted four years to this labor, and at 
the end of that period, with my mind enriched by a 
species of knowledge unattainable b}^ a mere acquaint- 
ance with books, I determined to visit Central America 
in person, and inspect the monuments of Uxmal and 
Palenque with my own eyes. 

Full of this intention, I took passage on the steam- 
ship "Prometheus," in December, 1852, bound from 
7 



98 Caxtoii s Book, 

New York to Grey town, situated in tlie State of Nicar- 
agua; a point from wliicli I could easily reach Chiapas 
or Yucatan. 

And at this point of my narrative, it becomes neces- 
sary to digress for a moment, and relate an incident 
which occurred on the voyage, and which, in its conse- 
quences, changed my Avliole mode of investigation, and 
introduced a new element of knowledge to my attention. 

It so happened that Judge E , formerly on the 

Bench of the Supreme Court of the State of New York, 
was a fellow-passenger. He had been employed by the 
Nicaragua Transit Company to visit Leon, the capital 
of Nicaragua, and perfect some treaty stipulations with 
regard to the project of an interoceanic canal. Fellow- 
passongers, wo of course became acquainted almost 
immediately, and at an early day I made respectful 
inquiries concerning that science to which he had of 
late years consecrated his life — I mean the "Theory of 
Spiritual Communion between the Two Worlds of Mat- 
ter and Spirit." The judge was as communicative as I 
could desire, and with the aid of two large manuscript 
volumes (which were subsequently given to the public), 
he introduced me at once into the profoundest arcana 
of the science. I read his books through with the deep- 
est interest, and though not by any means convinced, 
I was startled and bewildered. The most powerful 
instincts of my nature were aroused, and I frankly 
acknowledged to my instructor, that an irresistible curi- 
osity had seized me to wdtness some of those strange 
phenomena with which his volumes superabounded. 
Finally, I extorted a promise from him, that on our 
arrival at Greytown, if a favorable opportunity pre- 
sented, he would endeavor to form the mystical circle, 
and afford me the privilege I so much coveted — to see 



The Aztec Princess. 99 

for myself. The anticipated experiments formed the 
staple of our conversation for the six wearj days and 
nigiits that our trip occupied. Finall}^, on the morning 
of the seventh day, the low and wooded coast of Nicar- 
iigua gently rose in the western horizon, and before 
twelve o'clock we were safely riding at anchor within 
the mouth of the San Juan Biver, But here a new vexa- 
tion was in store for us. The river boats commenced 
firing up, and before dark we were transferred from our 
ocean steamer to the lighter crafts, and were soon after- 
wards leisurely puffing our way up the river. 

The next day we ar lived at the upper rapids, where 
the little village of Castillo is situated, and where we 
had the pleasure of being detained five or six days, 
awaiting the arrival of the California passengers. This 
delay was exactl}^ what I most desired, as it presented 
the opportunity long waited for with the utmost impa- 
tience. But the weather soon became most unfavorable, 
and the rain commenced falling in torrents. The Judge 
declared that it was useless to attempt anything so long 
as it continued to rain. But on the third evening he 
consented to make the experiment, provided the ma- 
terials of a circle could be found. We were not long 
in suspense, for two young ladies from Indiana, a young 
doctor from the old North State (noAv a practicing 
physician in Stockton, California), and several others, 
whose names I have long since forgotten, volunteered 
to take part in the mysterious proceedings. 

But the next difficulty was to find a place to meet in. 
The doctor and I started off on a tour through the vil- 
lage to prepare a suitable spot. The rain was still 
falling, and tlie night as dark as Erebus. Hoisting our 
umbrellas, we defied night and storm. Finally, we suc- 
ceeded in hiring a room in the second story of a build- 



lOO Caxtoji s Book. 

ing in process of erection, procured one or two lanterns, 
and illuminated it to the best of our ability. Soon 
afterwards we congregated there, but as the doors and 
windows were not put in, and there were no chairs or 
tables, we were once more on the point of giving up in 
despair. Luckily there were fifteen or twenty baskets 
of claret wine unopened in the room, and these we 
arranged for seats, svibstituting an unhinged door, bal- 
anced on a pile of boxes, for the leaf of a table. Our 
rude contrivance worked admirably, and before an hour 
had rolled by we had received a mass of communica- 
tions from all kinds of people in the spirit world, and 
fully satisfied ourselves that the Judge was either a 
wizard or what he professed to be — a medium of com- 
munication with departed spirits. 

It is unnecessary to detail all the messages we re- 
ceived; one only do I deem it important to notice. A 
spirit, purporting to be that of Horatio Nelson, rapped 
out his name, and stated that he had led the assault on 
the Spaniards in the attack of the old Fort of Castillo 
frowning above us, and there first distinguished himself 
in life. He declared that these mouldering ruins were 
one of his favorite haunts, and that he prided himself 
more on the assault and capture of Castillo Viejo than 
on the victory of the Nile or triumph of Trafalgar. 

The circle soon afterwards dispersed, and most of 
those who had participated in it were, in a few minutes, 
slumbering in their cots. As for myself, I was as- 
tounded with all that I had Avitnessed, but at the same 
time delighted beyond measure at the new field open- 
ing before me. I tossed from side to side, unable to 
close my eyes or to calm down the excitement, until, 
finding that sleep was impossible, I hastily rose, tlu-ew 
on my coat, and went to the door, which was slightly 



The Aztec Princess. lor 

ajar. On looking out, I observed a person passing 
toward the foot of the hill upon which stood the Fort 
of Castillo Yiejo. The shower had passed off, and the 
full moon was riding majestically in mid heavens. I 
thought I recognized the figure, and I ventured to ac- 
cost him. It was the Judge. He also had been unable 
to sleep, and declared that a sudden impulse drove him 
forth into the open air. 

Gradually he had approached the foot of the hill, 
which shot up, like a sugar-loaf, two or three hundred 
feet above the level of the stream, and had just made 
up his mind to ascend it when I spoke to him. I 
readily consented to accompany him, and we imme- 
diately commenced climbing upwards. 

The ascent was toilsome, as well as dangerous, and 
more than once we were on the point of descending 
without reaching the summit. Still, however, we 
clambered on, and at half-past one o'clock a.m., we 
succeeded in our effort, and stood upon the old stone 
rampart that had for more than half a century been 
slowly yielding to the remorseless tooth of Time. 
Abandoned for many years, the ruins presented the 
very picture of desolation. Hank vines clung upon 
every stone, and half filled up with their green tendrils 
the yawning crevices everywhere gaping at us, and 
whispering of the flight of years. 

We sat down on a broken fragment that once served 
as the floor of a port-hole, and many minutes elapsed 
before either of us spoke a word. We were busy with 
the past. Our thoughts recalled the terrible scenes 
which this same old fort witnessed on that glorious day 
when the youthful Nelson planted with his own hand 
the flag of St. George upon the very ramparts where we 
were sitting. 



I02 Caxtoii s Book. 

How long we had been musing I know not; but sud- 
denly we beard a low, long-drawn sigh at our very ears. 
Each sprang to his feet, looked wildly around, but 
seeing nothing, gazed at the other in blank astonish- 
ment. We resumed our seats, but had hardly done so, 
when a deep and most anguishing groan was heard, 
that pierced our very hearts. This time we retained 
our position. I had unclosed my lips, preparatory ta 
speaking to my companion, when I felt myself dis- 
tinctly touched upon the shoulder. My voice died 
away inarticulately, and I bliuddered with ill-concealed 
terror. But my companion was perfectly calm, and 
moved not a nerve or a muscle. Able at length to speak, 
I said, "Judge, let us leave this haunted sepulchre." 

"Not for the world," he coolly replied. "You have 
been anxious for spiritual phenomena; now you cau wit- 
ness them unobserved and Avithout interruption." 

As he said this, my right arm was seized with great 
force, and I was compelled to resign myself to the con- 
trol of the presence that possessed me. My right hand 
was then placed on the Judge's left breast, and his left 
hand laid gently on my right shoulder. At the same 
time he took a pencil and paper from his pocket, and 
wrote very rapidly the following communication, ad- 
dressed to me: 

The Grave hath its secrets, but the Past has none. 
Time may crumble pyramids in the dust, but the genius of 
man can despoil him of his booty, and rescue the stor}' of 
buried empires from oblivion. Even now the tombs of 
Egyj)t are unrolling their recorded ej)itaphs. Even now 
the sculptured mounds of Nineveh are surrendering- the 
history of Nebuchadnezzar's line. Before another genera- 
tion shall pass away, the columns of Palenque shall find a 
tongue, and the has-reliefs of Uxmal wake the dead from 
their sleep of two thousand years. Young man ! oi:)en your 
eyes ; we shall meet again amid the ruins of the Gascu 
Grande ! 



The Aztec Pruicess. 103 

At this moment the Judge's hand fell palsied at his 
side, and the paper was thrust violently into my left 
hand. I held it up so as to permit the rays of the 
moon to fall full upon it, and read it carefully from 
beginning to end. But no sooner had I finished read- 
ing it than a shock something like electricity struck us 
simultaneously, and seemed to rock the old fort to its 
very foundation. Everything near us was apparently 
affected by it, and several large bowlders started from 
their ticklish beds and rolled away down the mountain. 
Our surprise at this was hardly over, ere one still greater 
took possession of us. On raising our eyes to the moss- 
grown parapet, we beheld a figure sitting upon it that 
bore a very striking resemblance to the pictures in the 
Spanish Museum at Madrid of the early Aztec princes. 
It was a female, and she bore upon her head a most 
gorgeous headdress of feathers, called a Panache. Her 
face was calm, clear, and exceedingly beautiful. The 
nose was prominent — more so than the Mexican or Tez- 
cucan — and the complexion much lighter. Indeed, by 
the gleam of the moonlight, it appeared as white as that 
of a Caucasian princess, and wore an expression full of 
benignity and love. 

Our eyes were riveted upon this beautiful apparition, 
and our lips silent. She seemed desirous of speaking, 
and once or twice I beheld her lips faintly moving. 
Finally, raising her white, uncovered arm, she pointed 
to the north, and softly murmured, "Palenque!''' 

Before we could resolve in our minds what to say in 
reply, the fairy princess folded her arms across her 
breast, and disappeared as suddenly and mysteriously 
as she had been evoked from night. We spoke not a 
word to each other, but gazed long and thoughtfully at 
the spot where the bright vision had gladdened and be- 



I04 Caxtons Book. 

wilclered our sight. By a common impulse, we turned 
to leave, and descended the mountain in silence as deep 
as that which brooded over chaos ere God spoke crear 
tion into being. We soon reached the foot of the hill, 
and parted, with no word upon our lips, though with the 
wealth of untold worlds gathered up in our hearts. 

Never, since that bright and glorious tropical night, 
have I mentioned the mysterious scene we witnessed on 
the ramparts of Fort Castillo; and I have every reason to 
believe that my companion has been as discreet. 

This, perhaps, will be the only record that shall trans- 
mit it to the future; but well I know that its fame will 
render me immortal. « 

Through me and me alone, the sculptured marbles of 
Central America have found a tongue. By my efforts, 
Palenque speaks of her buried glories, and Uxmal 
wakes from oblivion's repose. Even the old pyramid 
of Cholula yields up its bloody secrets, and Casa Grande 
reveals the dread history of its royalties. 

The means by which a key to the monumental hiero- 
glyphics of Central America was furnished me, as well 
as a full account of the discoveries made at Palenque, 
will be narrated in the subsequent chapters of this 
history. 



CHAPTER II. 

"Amid all the wreck of empires, nothing ever spoke so forcibly the 
world's mutations, as this immense forest, shrouding what was once a 
great city." — Stephens. 

At daylight on the next morning after the singular 
adventure recorded in the preceding chapter, the Cali- 
fornia passengers bound eastward arrived, and those of 
us bound to the westward were transshipped to the same 
steamer which they had just abandoned. In less than 



The Aztec Prhicess. 105 

an hour we were all aboard, and the little river-craft was 
busily puffing her way toward the fairy shores of Lake 
Nicaragua. 

For me, however, the evergreen scenery of the tropics 
possessed no charms, and its balmy air no enchant- 
ments. Sometimes, as the steamer approached the ivy- 
<;lad banks, laden as they were with flowers of every 
hue, and alive with ten thousand songsters of the richest 
and most variegated plumage, my attention Avould be 
momentarily aroused, and I enjoyed the SAveet fragrance 
•of the flowers, and the gay singing of the birds. But 
my memory was busy with the past, and my imagina- 
tion Avith the future. With the Jiidge, even, I could 
not converse for any length of time, without falling into 
a reverie by no means flattering to his powers of con- 
versation. About noon, however, I was fully aroused 
io the beauty and sublimity of the surrounding scenery. 
We had just passed Fort San Carlos, at the junction of 
"the San Juan River witli the lake, and before us was 
■spread out like an ocean that magnificent sheet of water. 
It was dotted all over with green islands, and reminded 
me of the picture drawn by Addison of the Vision of 
JVIirza. 

Here, said I to myself, is the home of the blest. 
These emerald islets, fed by vernal skies, never grow 
.sere and yellow in the autumn; never bleak and deso- 
late in the winter. Perpetual summer smiles above 
them, and wavelets dimpled by gentle breezes forever 
lave their shores. Rude storms never howl across these 
•sleeping billows, and the azure heavens whisper eternal 
peace to the lacerated heart. 

Hardly had these words escaped my lips, when a loud 
Teport, like a whole park of artillery, suddenly shook 
the air. It seemed to proceed from the westward, and 



io6 Caxion s Book. 

on turning our ej'es in that direction, we beheld the 
true cause of the pheuomeDon. Ometepe was in active 
eruption. It had given no admonitory notice of the 
storm which had been gathering in its bosom, but like 
the wrath of those dangerous men we sometimes en- 
counter in life, it had hidden its vengeance beneath 
flowery smiles, and covered over its terrors with deceit- 
ful calm. 

In a moment the whole face of nature was changed. 
The skies became dark and lurid, the atmosphere heavy 
and sultry, and the joyous waters across which Ave had 
been careering only a moment before with animation 
and laughter, rose in tumultuous swells, like the cross- 
seas in the Mexican Gulf after a tornado. Terror seized 
all on board the steamer, and the passengers were clam- 
orous to return to Fort San Carlos. But the captain 
was inexorable, and seizing the wheel himself, he defied 
the war of the elements, and steered the vessel on her 
ordinary course. This lay directly to the south of 
Ometepe, and within a quarter of a mile of the foot of 
the volcano. 

As we approached the region of the eruption, the 
waters of the lake became more and more troubled, and 
the air still more difficult to respire. Pumice-stone^ 
seemingly as light as cork, covered the surface of the 
lake, and soon a terrific shower of hot ashes darkened 
the very sun. Our danger at this moment was immi- 
nent in the extreme, for, laying aside all consideration 
of peril from the volcano itself, it was with great difii- 
culty that the ashes could be swept from the deck fast 
enough to prevent the w^oodwork from ignition. But 
our chief danger was still in store for us; for just as we 
had arrived directly under the impending summit, as it 
were, a fearful explosion took place, and threatened to 



The Aztec Princess. loj 

ingulf us all in ruin. The crater of the volcano, which 
previously had only belched forth ashes and lava, now 
sent up high into the heavens a sheet of lurid fire. It> 
did not resemble gases in combustion, which we denom- 
inate flame, flickering for a moment in transitory splen- 
dor, and then dying out forever. On the contrary, it 
looked more like frozen fire, if the expression may be 
allowed. It presented an appearance of solidity that 
seemed to defy abrasion or demolition, and rose into the 
blue sky like a marble column of lightning. It was far 
brighter than ordinary flame, and cast a gloomy and 
peculiar shadoAv upon the deck of the steamer. At the 
same instant the earth itself shook like a summer reed 
when swept by a storm, and the water struck the sides 
of the vessel like some rocky substance. Every atom 
of timber in her trembled and quivered for a moment, 
then grew into senseless wood once more. At this^ 
instant, the terrific cry of " Fire! " burst from a hundred 
tongues, and I had but to cast my eyes toward the 
stern of the ship to realize the new peril at hand. The 
attention of the passengers was now equally divided 
between the burning ship and the belching volcano. 
The alternative of a death by flame, or by burial in the 
lake was presented to each of us. 

In a few moments more the captain, crew, and 
passengers, including seventeen ladies, were engaged 
hand to hand with the enemy nearest to us. Buckets, 
pumps, and even hats, were used to draw up water 
from the lake and pass to those hardy spirits that 
dared to press closest to the flames. But I perceived 
at once that all woiild prove unavailing. The fire 
gained upon the combatants every moment, and a gen- 
eral retreat took place toward the stem of the steamer. 
Fully satisfied what would be the fate of those who 



io8 Caxtons Book. 

remained upon the ship, I commenced preparing to 
throw myself into the water, and for that purpose was 
about tearing one of the cabin doors from its hinges,, 
when the Judge came up, and accosted me. 

He was perfectly calm; nor could I, after the closest 
scrutiny of his features, detect either excitement, im- 
patience, or alarm. In astonishment I exclaimed: 

"Sir, death is at the doors! Prepare to escape from 
the burning ship." 

"There is no danger," he replied calmly; "and even 
if there Avere, what is this thing that we call death, that 
we should fear it? Compose yourself, young man; 
there is as yet no danger. I have been forewarned of 
this scene, a,nd not a soul of us shall perish." 

Regarding him as a madman, I tore the door from its 
hinges with the strength of despair, and rushing to the 
side of the ship, was in the very act of plunging over- 
board, when a united shriek of all the passengers rose 
upon my ear, and I paused involuntarily to ascertain 
the new cause of alarm. Scarcely did I have time to 
cast one look at the mountain, ere I discovered that the 
flames had all been extinguished at its crater, and that 
the air was darkened by a mass of vapor, rendering the 
sunlight a mockery and a shadow. But this eclipse 
was our redemption. The next moment a sheet of cool 
water fell upon the ship, and in such incredible masses, 
that many articles were v/ashed overboard, and the 
door I held closely in my hands was borne away by the 
flood. The fire was completely extinguished, and, ere 
we knew it, the danger over. 

Greatly puzzled how to account for the strange turn 
in our affairs, I was ready at the moment to attribute it 

to Judge E , and I had almost settled the question 

that he was a necromancer, when he approached me, 



The Aztec Princess. 109 

and putting an open volume in my hand, wliicli I ascer- 
tained was a "History of the Republic of Guatemala," 
I read the following incident: 

Nor is it true that volcanoes discharge only fire and 
molten lava from their craters. On the contrary, they fre- 
quently shower down water in almost incredible quantities, 
and cause oftentimes as much mischief by floods as tbey do 
by flames. An instance of this kind occurred in the year 
1542, which completely demolished one half the buildiugs 
in the city of Guatemala. It was chiefly owing to this 
cause that the site of the city was changed; the ancient site 
being abandoned, and the present locality selected for the 
capital.* 

Six months after the events recorded above, I dis- 
mounted from my mule near the old cabilda in the 
modern village of Palenque. During that interval I 
had met with the usual fortune of those who travel 
alone in the interior of the Spanish-American States. 
The war of castes was at its height, and the cry of Gar- 
rera and 31orazan greeted the ear of the stranger at 
almost every turn of the road. Morazan represented 
the aristocratic idea, still prevalent amongst the better 
classes in Central America; whilst Carrera, on the other 
hand, professed the wildest liberty and the extremest 
democracy. The first carried in his train the wealth, 
official power, and refinement of the country; the latter 
drew after him that huge old giant, Plehs., who in days 
gone by has pulled down so many thrones, built the 
groundwork of so many republics, and then, by fire and 
sword and barbarian ignorance, laid their trophies in the 
dust. My sense and sympathy took different directions. 
Reason led me to the side of Morazan; but early preju- 
dices carried me over to Carrera. Very soon, however, 
I was taught the lesson, that power in the hands of th& 

* Thompson's Histoi-y of Guatemala, p. 238. 



Tio Caxtoii s Book. 

Tabble is the greatest curse with which a country cau 
be afflicted, and that a paper constitution never yet made 
men free. I found out, too, that the entire population 
was a rabble and that it made but little diflerence 
which hero was in the ascendant. The plunder of the 
laboring-classes was equally the object of both, and 
anarchy the fate of the country, no matter who held the 
reins. Civil wars have corrupted the whole population. 
The men are all hravos, and the women coquettes. The 
fireside virtues are unknown. It will be generations 
before these pseudo-republicans wall learn that there can 
be no true patriotism where there is no countr}'; there 
can be no country where there are no homes; there can 
be no home where woman rules not from the throne of 
Virtue with the sceptre of Love! 

I had been robbed eighteen times in six months; taken 
prisoner four times by each party; sent in chains to the 
city of Guatemala, twice by Carrera, and once by Mor- 
azan as a spy; and condemned to be shot as a traitor by 
both chieftains. In each instance I owed my liberation 
io the American Consul-Geueral, who, having heard the 
object with which I visited the country, determined that 
it should not be thwarted by these intestine broils. 

Finally, as announced above, I reached the present 
termination of my journey, and immediately commenced 
preparations to explore the famous ruins in the neigh- 
borhood. The first want of a traveler, no matter 
whither he roams, is a guide; and I immediately called 
at the redstone residence of the Alcalde, and mentioned 
to him my name, the purport of my visit to Central 
America, and the object of my present call upon hira. 
Eying me closely from head to foot, he asked me if I 
liad any money ("Tiene V. dinero ?") 

"Si, senor." 



The Aztec Princess. 1 1 1 

*'Cuauto?" 

" Poco mas cle quinientos pesos." 

"Bien; sientase." 

So I took a seat upon a sbuck-bottom stool, and 
awaited the next move of the high dignitary. Without 
responding directly to my application for a guide, he 
suddenly turned the conversation, and demanded if I 
was acquainted with Senor Catherwood or el gober- 
nador. (I afterwards learned that Mr. Stephens was 
always called Governor by the native population in the 
vicinity of Palenque.) I responded in the negative. 
He then informed me that these gentlemen had sent 
him a copy of their work on Chiapas, and at the same 
time a large volume, that had been recently translated 
into Spanish by a member of the Spanish Academy, 
named Don Douoso Cortes, which he placed in my 
hands. 

My astonishment can be better imagined than de- 
scribed, when, on turning to the title-page, I ascer- 
tained that the book was called "Natures Divine Beve- 
lations. By A. J. Davis. Traducido, etc.''' 

Observing my surprise, the Alcalde demanded if I 
knew the author. 

"Most assuredly," said I; "he is my " But I 

must not anticipate. 

After assuring me that he regarded the work as the 
greatest book in the world, next to the Bible and Don 
Quixote, and that he fully believed every line in it, 
■including the preface, he abruptly left the room, and 
went into the court-yard behind the house. 

I had scarcely time to take a survey of the ill-furnished 
apartment, when he returned, leading in by a rope, 
made of horsehair, called a " larriete," a youth whose 
arms were pinioned behind him, and whose features 
Tvore the most remarkable expression I ever beheld. 



112 Caxtoii s Book. 

Amazed, I demanded who this young man was, and 
why he had been introduced to my notice. He replied, 
without noticing in the slightest degree my surprise, 
that Fio — for that was his name — was the best guide to 
the ruins that the village afforded; that he Avas taken 
prisoner a few months before from a marauding party 
of Caribs (here the young man gave a low, peculiar 
whistle and a negative shake of the head), and that if 
his escape could be prevented by me, he would be found 
to be invaluable. 

I then asked Pio if he understood the Spanish lan- 
guage, but he evinced no comprehension of what I said. 
The Alcalde remarked that the 7nozo was very cunning, 
and understood a great deal more than he pretended; 
that he was by law his (the Alcalde's) slave, being a 
Carib by birth, and uninstructed totally in religious ex- 
ercises; in fact, that he was a neophyte, and had been 
placed in his hands by the Padre to teach the rudiments 
of Christianity. 

I next demanded of Pio if he was willing to conduct 
me to the ruins. A gleam of joy at once illuminated 
his features, and, throwing himself at my feet, he gazed 
upward into my face with all the simplicity of a child. 

But I did not fail to notice the peculiar posture he 
assumed whilst sitting. It was not that of the American 
Indian, who carelessly lolls upon the ground, nor that 
of the Hottentot, who sits flatly, with his knees upraised. 
On the contrary, the attitude was precisely the same as 
that sculptured on the basso-rilievos, at Uxmal, Palenque, 
and throughout the region of Central American ruins. 
I had first observed it in the Aztec children exhibited a 
few years ago throughout the United States. The 
weight of the body seemed to be thrown on the inside 
of the thighs, and the feet turned outward, bat drawn. 



The Aztec Princess. 113 

up closely to the body. No sooner did I notice this 
circumstance than I requested Pio to rise, which he 
did. Then, pretending suddenly to change my mind, I 
requested him to be seated again. This I did to ascer- 
tain if the first attitude was accidental. But on resum- 
ing his seat, he settled down with great ease and celerity 
into the self-same position, and I felt assured that I was 
not mistaken. It would have required the united cer- 
tificates of all the population in the village, after that, 
to convince me that Pio was a Carib. But aside from 
this circumstance, which might by possibility have been 
accidental, neither the color, expression, nor structure 
of his face indicated Caribbean descent. On the con- 
trary, the head was smaller, the hair finer, the com- 
plexion several shades lighter, and the facial angle 
totally diflerent. There was a much closer resemblance 
to Jew than to Gentile; indeed, the peculiar curve of the 
nose, and the Syrian leer of the eye, disclosed an Israel- 
itish ancestry rather than an American. 

Having settled these points in my own mind very 
rapidly, the Alcalde and I next chaffered a few moments 
over the price to be paid for Pio's services. This was 
soon satisfactorily arranged, and the boy was delivered 
into my charge. But before doing so formally, the 
Alcalde declared that I must never release him whilst in 
the woods or amongst the ruins, or else he would escape, 
and fly back to his barbarian friends, and the Holy 
Apostolic Church would lose a convert. He also added, 
by way of epilogue, that if I permitted him to get 
away, his price was cien pesos (one hundred dollars). 

The next two hours were devoted to preparations for 
a life in the forest. I obtained the services of two 
additional persons; one to cook and the other to assist 
in clearing away rubbish and stones from the ruins. 



114 Caxton s Book. 

Mounting my mule, already heavily laden with pro- 
visions, mosquito bars, bedding, cooking utensils, etc., 
we turned our faces toward the southeast, and left the 
modern village of Palenque. For the first mile I obeyed 
strictly the injunctions of the Alcalde, and held Pio 
tightly by the rope. But shortly afterwards we crossed 
a rapid stream, and on mounting the opposite bank, we 
entered a dense forest. The trees were of a gigantic 
size, very lofty, and covered from trunk to top with 
parasites of every conceivable kind. The undergrowth 
was luxuriant, and in a few moments we found ourselves 
buried in a tomb of tropical vegetation. The light of 
the sun never penetrates those realms of perpetual 
shadow, and the atmosphere seems to take a shade from 
the pervading gloom. Occasionally a bright- plumed 
songster would start up and dart through the inaccessi- 
ble foliage, but more frequently we disturbed snakes 
and lizards in our journey. 

After traversing several hundred yards of this prim- 
eval forest I called a halt, and drew Pio close up to the 
side of my mule. Then, taking him by the shoulder, 
I wheeled him round quickly, and drawing a large 
knife which I had purchased to cut away the thick foliage 
in my exploration, I deliberately severed the cords 
from his hands, and set him free. Instead of bounding 
off like a startled deer, as my attendants expected to see 
him do, he seized my hand, pressed it respectfully be- 
tween his own, raised the back of it to his forehead, 
and then imprinted a kiss betwixt the thumb and fore- 
finger. Immediately afterward, he began to whistle in 
a sweet low tone, and taking the lead of the party, con- 
ducted us rapidly into the heart of the forest. 

We had proceeded about seven or eight miles, cross- 
ing two or three small rivers in our way, when the guide 



The Aztec Princess, 1 1 5 

suddenly tlirew up bis bauds, and pointing to a buge 
pile of rubbisb and ruins in tbe distance, exclaimed 

Tbis was tbe first indication bo bad as yet given of bis 
ability to speak or to understand tbe Spauisb, or, indeed, 
any tongue, and I was congratulating myself upon tbe 
discovery, wben be subsided into a painful silence, in- 
terrupted only by an occasional wbistle, nor would be 
make any intelligible reply to tbe simplest question. 

We pusbed on rapidly, and in a few moments more I 
stood upon tbe summit of tbe pyramidal structure, upon 
wbicb, as a base, tbe ruins known as El Palacio are 
situated. 

Tliese ruins bave been so frequently described, tbat I 
deem it unnecessary to enter into any detailed account 
of tbem; especially as by doing so but little progress 
would be made witb tbe more important portions of tbis 
narrative. If, tberefore, tbe reader be curious to get a 
more particular insigbt into tbe form, size, and appear- 
ance of tbese curious remains, let bim consult tbe 
splendidly illuminated pages of Del Kio, Waldeck, and 
Dupaix. Nor sliould Stepbens and Catberwood be 
neglected; for tbougb tbeir explorations are less scien- 
tific and tborougb tliau eitlier of tbe otbers, yet being 
more modern, tbey will prove not less interesting. 

Several montlis bad now elapsed since I swung my 
bammock in one of tbe corridors of tbe old palace. 
Tbe rainy season bad vanisbed, and tbe bot weatber 
once more set in for tbe summer. Still I worked on. I 
took accurate and correct drawings of every engraved 
entablature I could discover. Witb tbe assistance of my 
taciturn guide, notbing seemed to escape me. Certain 
am I tbat I was enabled to copy basso-rilievos never seen 



1 1 6 Caxton s Book. 

by any of the great travelers whose works I had read; 
for Pio seemed to know by intuition exactly where they 
were to be found. My collection was far more com- 
plete than Mr. Catherwood's, and more faithful to the 
original than Lord Kingsborough's. Pio leaned over 
my shoulder whilst I was engaged in drawing, and if I 
committed the slightest error his quick glance detected 
it at once, and a short, rough whistle recalled my pencil 
back to its duty. 

Finally, I completed the last drawing I intended to 
make, and commenced preparations to leave my quar- 
ters, and select others affording gi-eater facilities for 
the study of the various problems connected with these 
mysterious hieroglyphics. I felt fully sensible of the 
immense toil before me, but having determined long 
since to devote my whole life to the task of interpreting, 
these silent historians of buried realms, hope gave me 
strength to venture uj)on the work, and the first step 
toward it had just been successfully accomplished. 

But what were paintings, and drawings, and sketches, 
without some key to the system of hieroglyphs, or 
some clue to the labyrinth, into which I had entered ? 
For hours I sat and gazed at the voiceless signs before 
me, dreaming of Champollion, and the Rosetta Stone, 
and vainly hoping that some unheard-of miracle would 
be wrought in my favor, by which a single letter might 
be interpreted. But the longer I gazed, the darker 
became the enigma, and the more difficult seemed its^ 
solution. 

I had not even the foundation, upon which Dr. 
Young, and Lepsius, and De Lacy, and Champollion 
commenced. There were no living Copts, who spoke a 
dialect of the dead tongue in which the historian had 
engraved his annals. There were no descendants of 



The Aztec Pri7icess. 1 1 7 

the extinct nations, whose sole memorials were the 
crumbling ruins before me. Time had left no teacher 
-whose lessons might result in success. Tradition even, 
with her uncertain light, threw no flickering glare 
around, by which the groping archaeologist might weave 
an imaginary tale of the past. 

" Chaos of ruins, who shall trace the void, 
O'er the dim fragments cast a lunar light. 
And say, ' Rtrc was, or is,' where all is doubly night ?" 



CHAPTER III. 

" I must except, however, the attempt to explore an aqueduct, which 
we made together. Within, it was perfectly dark, and we could not 
move without candles. The sides were of smooth stones, about four feet 
high, and the roof was made by stones lapping over like the corridors 
of the buildings. At a short distance from the entrance, the passage 
turned to the left, and at a distance of one hiandred and sixty feet it 
was completely blocked up by the ruins of the roof which had fallen 
down." — Incidents of Travel in Chiapas. 

One day I had been unusually busy in arranging my 
'drawings and forming them into something like system, 
and toward evening, had taken my seat, as I always 
did, just in front of the large basso-rilievo ornamenting 
the main entrance into the corridor of the palace, when 
Pio approached me from behind and laid his hand upon 
my shoulder. 

Not having observed his approach, I was startled by 
the suddenness of the contact, and sprang to my feet, 
lialf in surprise and half in alarm. He had never before 
been guilty of such an act of impoliteness, and I was on 
the eve of rebuking him for his conduct, when I caught 
the kind and intelligent expression of his eye, which at 
once disarmed me, and attracted most strongly my 
attention. Slowly raising his arm, he pointed with the 
forefinger of his right hand to the entablature before 
us and began to whistle most distinctly, yet most musi- 



1 1 (S Caxton s Book. 

callj, Ji low monody, wliicli rosoinblod tlic Ciuloncial 
riHO and fall of tlio voice in readinj^ poetry. Occasion- 
jiliy, his tones would almost die entirely away, then 
rise \iir\j hi^h, and then modulate themselves with the 
strictest r(!gard to rhythmical measure. His finger ran 
rapidly over the hieroglyphics, first from left to right, 
and then from right to left. 

in the utmost amazement I tui'iujd toward Pio, and 
demanded what he irieant. Is this a musical composi- 
tion, exclaimed I, that you seem to be reading? My 
com[)anion uttered no reply, but proceeded rapidly 
with his task. For more than half an hour he was 
engaged in whistling down the double column of hiero- 
gly})hics engraved upon the entablature before me. So 
soon as his task wasaccomi)lishod, and without offering 
the slightest oxplan;t,tion, he seized my hand and made 
a signal for me to follow. 

Having provided himself with a box of lucifer matches 
and a fresh candle, he i)laced the same implements in 
my |)ossession, and started in advance. I obeyed almost 
instinctively. 

We passed into the innermost apartments of El Palacio, 
and approached a cavernous opening into which Mr. 
Ste[)hens had descended, juid which he supposed had 
been used as a tomb. 

It was scarcely high enough in the pitch to enable me 
to stand erect, and I felt a cool damp breeze pass 
over my brow, such as we sometimes encounter upon 
entering a vault. 

Pio stopped and deliberately lighted his candle and 
beckoned mo to do the same. As soon as this was 
effected, ho advanced into the darkest coriKsr of the 
dungeon, and stooping with his mouth to the floor, gave 
a long, shrill whistle. The next moment, one of tho 



The Aztec Princess. 1 1 9 

pavi'ng-stonoR was raisocT froni loilJnn, jiiul I boliold Jiii 
almost porpeiulicnlar slono staircaso loadinj:; clown still 
deeper imder ground. Calling mo to Lis side, ho 
pointed to tlui ontranco and niado a gesture ("or mo to 
descend. My I'oelings at this monunit may bo bettor 
imagined than described. My memory ran back to the 
information given me by tlie Alcaide, that Pio was a 
Carib, iind I felt confident that ho had confederates 
close at hand. The Caribs, I well know, had never 
been cliristianized nor subdued, but roved about the 
adjacent swamps and fastnesses in their aboriginal state. 
I had frequently read of terrible massacres pei-petratod 
by them, and the dreadful fate of William ]5eaidiani, so 
thrillingly told by Mr. Stephens in his second volume, 
iiprose in my mind at this instant, with fearful distinct- 
ness. But then, thought I, what motive can this poor 
boy have in alluring me to ruin? Wliat harm have I 
done him? riunder surely cannot be his object, for he 
was present when I intrusted all I possessed to the care 
of the Alcalde of the village. These considerations 
left my mind in ecpial balance, and I turned around to 
conlVont my coni[)ani()n, and draAV a decision from tlio 
expression of his countiMiance. 

One look reassured me at once. A playful smile 
wreathed his li[)s, and lightened over his face a gleam 
of real benevolence, not unmixed, as I thought, with 
pity. Hesitating no longei-, I preceded him into those 
realms of subterranean night. Down, down, down, I 
trod, until there seemcul no bottom to the echoing cav- 
ern. Each moment the air grew heavier, and our cau- 
dles began to flicker and grow dimmer, as the impurities 
of the confined atmosphei-e became more and more ])or- 
ceptible. My liead felt lighter, and began to swim. 
My lungs respired with greater diiliculty, and my knees 
knocked and jostled, as though faint from weakness. 



I20 Cax ton's Book. 

Still there seemed no end to the descent. Tramp, 
tramp, tramp, I heard the footsteps of my guide behind 
me, and I vainly explored the darkness before. At 
length we reached a broad even platform, covered over 
with the peculiar tiling found among these ruins. As 
soon as Pio reached the landing-place, he beckoned 
me to be seated on the stone steps, which I was but too 
glad to do. He at once followed my example, and 
seemed no less rejoiced than I that the descent had 
been safely accomplished. 

I once descended from the summit of Bunker Hill 
Monument, and counted the steps, from the top to the 
bottom. That number I made 465. The estimate of 
the depth of this cavern, made at the time, led me to 
believe that it was nearly equal to the height of that 
column. But there was no railing by which to cling, 
and no friend to interrupt my fall, in case of accident. 
Pio ivas behind me! 

After I became somewhat rested from the fatigue, 
my curiosity returned with tenfold force, and I sur- 
veyed the apartment with real pleasure. It was per- 
fectly circular, and was about fifteen feet in diameter, 
and ten feet high. The walls seemed to be smooth, 
except a close, damp coating of moss, that age and 
humidity had fastened upon them. 

I could perceive no exit, except the one by which we 
had reached it. 

But I was not permitted to remain long in doubt on 
this point; for Pio soon rose, walked to the side of the 
chamber exactly opposite the stairs, whistled shrilly, 
as before, and an aperture immediately manifested 
itself, large enough to admit the body of a man! 
Through this he crawled, and beckoned me to follow. 
No sooner had I crept through the wall, than the stone 



The Aztec Princess. 121 

tdropped from above, and closed the orifice completely. 
I now found myself standing erect in what appeared to 
be a subterranean aqueduct. It was precisely of the 
same size, with a flat, cemented floor, shelving sides, 
and circular, or rather Aztec-arched roof. The passage 
was not straight, but wound about with frequent turn- 
ings as far as we pursued it. 

Why these curves were made, I never ascertained, 
a,lthough afterward I gave the subject much attention. 
We started down tlie aqueduct at a brisk pace, our 
candles being frequently extinguished by fresh drafts 
of air, that struck us at almost every turn. Whenever 
they occurred, we paused a moment, to reillume them, 
and then hastened on, as silently and swiftly as before. 

After traversing at least five or six miles of this 
passage, occasionally passing arched chambers like 
that at the foot of the staircase, we suddenly reached 
the termination of the aqueduct, which was an apart- 
ment the facsimile of the one at the other end of it. 
Here also we observed a stone stairway, and my com- 
panion at once began the ascent. During our journey 
through the long arched way behind us, we frequently 
passed through rents, made possibly by earthquakes, 
.and more than once were compelled to crawl through 
openings half filled with rubbish, sand and stones. 
Nor was the road dry in all places. Indeed, generally, 
the floor w^as wet, and twice we forded small brooks 
4;hat ran directly across the path. Behind us, and 
before, we could distinctly hear the water dripping 
from the ceiling, and long before we reached the end 
of the passage, our clothing had been completely sat- 
urated. It was, therefore, with great and necessary 
caution, that I followed my guide up the slippery stairs. 
Our ascent was not so tedious as our descent had been, 



122 Caxtoii s Book. 

nor was the distance apparently more than half so 
great to the surface. Pio paused a moment at the 
head of the stairway, extinguished his candle, and then 
requested me by a gesture to do likewise. When this, 
was accomplished, he touched a spring and the trap- 
door flew open, upiuards. The next instant I found 
myself standing in a chamber but dimly lighted from 
above. We soon emerged into open daylight, and 
there, for the iirst time since the conquest of Mexico 
by Cortes, the eyes of a white man rested upon the 
gigantic ruins of La Casa Grande. 

These ruins are far more extensive than any yet ex- 
plored by travelers in Central America. Hitherto, they 
have entirely escaped observation. The natives of the 
country are not even aware of their existence, and it 
will be many years before they are visited by the 
curious. 

But here they were, a solid reality ! Frowning on the 
surrounding gloom of the forest, and the shadows of 
approaching night, they stretched out on every side^ 
like the bodies of dead giants slain in battle with the 
Titans. 

Daylight was nearly gone, and it soon became impos- 
sible to see anything with distinctness. For the first 
time, the peculiarity of my lonely situation forced itself 
upon my attention. I was alone with the Carib boy. 
I had not even brought my side-arms with me, and I 
knew that it was now too late to make any attempt to 
escape through the forest. The idea of returning by 
the subterranean aqueduct never crossed my mind as a 
possibility; for my nerves flinched at the bare thought 
of the shrill whistle of Pio, and the mysterious obe- 
dience of the stones. 

Whilst revolving these unpleasant ideas through my 



The Aztec Prhiccss. 123 

brain, the boy approached me respectfully, opened a, 
small knapsack that I had not before observed he car- 
ried, and offered me some food. Hungry and fatigued 
as I was, I could not eat; the same peculiar smile 
passed over his features; he rose and left me for a mo- 
ment, returned, and offered me a gourd of water. After 
drinking, I felt greatly refreshed, and endeavored to 
draw my companion into a conversation. But all to no 
purpose. He soon fell asleep, and I too, ere long, 
was quietly reposing in the depths of the forest. 

It may seem remarkable that the ruins of Co,8a Grande 
have never been discovered, as yet, by professional trav- 
elers. But it requires only a slight acquaintance with 
the characteristics of the surrounding country, and a 
peep into the intricacies of a tropical forest, to dispel 
at once all wonder on this subject. These ruins are 
situated about five miles in a westerly direction from 
those known as El Palacio, and originally constituted 
a part of the same city. They are as much more grand 
and extensive than those of El Palacio as those are than 
the remains at Uxmal, or Copan. In fact, they are 
gigantic, and reminded me forcibly of the great Temple 
of Karuak, on the banks of the Nile. But they lie buried 
in the fastnesses of a tropical forest. One half of them 
is entombed in a sea of vegetation, and it would require 
a thousand men more than a whole year to clear away 
the majestic groves that shoot up like sleepless sentinels 
from court-yard and corridor, send their fantastic roots 
into the bedchamber of royalty, and drop their annual 
foliage upon pavements where princes once played in 
their infancy, and courtiers knelt in their pride. A 
thousand vines and parasites are climbing in every di- 
rection, over portal and pillar, over corridor and sacri- 
ficial shrine. So deeply shrouded in vegetation are these 



124 Caxions Book. 

awful memorials of dead dynasties, that a traveler might 
approach within a few steps of the p3'ramidal mound, 
upon which they are built, and yet be totally unaware 
of their existence. I cannot convey a better idea of the 
difficulties attending a discovery and explanation of 
these ruins than to quote what Mr. Stephens has said 
<ii El Palacio. "The whole country for miles around 
is covered by a dense forest of gigantic trees, with a 
growth of brush and underwood unknown in the wooded 
deserts of our own country, and impenetrable in any 
direction, except by cutting away with a machete. What 
lies buried in that forest it is impossible to say of my 
own knowledge. Without a guide we might have gone 
within a hundred feet of all the buildings without dis- 
covering one of them. 

I awoke with a start and a shudder. Something cold 
and damp seemed to have touched my forehead, aud left 
a chill that penetrated into my brain. How long I had 
been asleep, I have no means of ascertaining; but judg- 
ing from natural instinct, I presume it was near mid- 
night when I awoke. I turned my head toward my com- 
panion, and felt some relief on beholding him just 
where he had fallen asleep. He was breathing heavily, 
and was completely buried in unconsciousness. When 
I was fully aroused I felt most strangely. I had never 
experienced the same sensation but once before in my 
whole life, and that was whilst in company with Judge 
E on the stone ramparts of Castillo Viejo. 

I was lying flat upon my back, with my left hand rest- 
ing gently on my naked right breast, and my right hand 
raised perpendicularly from my body. The arm rested 
on the elbow and was completely paralyzed, or in com- 
mon parlance, asleep. 



The Aztec Princess. 125 

On opening my eyes, I observed that the full moou 
was in mid-heavens, and the night almost as bright as- 
day. I could distinctly see the features of Pio, and even 
noticed the regular rise and fall of his bosom, as the 
tides of life ebbed and flowed into his lungs. The huge 
old forest trees, that had been standing amid the ruins 
for unnumbered centuries, loomed up into the moon- 
shine, hundreds of feet above me, and cast their deep 
black shadows upon the pale marbles, on whose frag- 
ments I was reposing. 

All at once, I perceived that my hand and arm wer& 
in rapid motion. It rested on the elbow as a fulcrum, 
and swayed back and forth, round and round, with great 
ease and celerity. Perfectly satisfied that it moved 
without any effort of my own will, I was greatly puzzled 
to arrive at any satisfactory solution of the phenomenon. 
The idea crossed my mind that the effect was of spiritual 
origin, and that I had become self-magnetized. I had 
read and believed that the two sides of the human frame 
are differently electrified, and the curious phases of 
the disease called paralysis sufficiently established the 
dogma, that one half the body may die, and yet the 
other half live on. I had many times experimented on 
the human hand, and the philosophical fact had long 
been demonstrated, to my own satisfaction, that the in- 
side of the hand is totally difierent from the outside. If 
we desire to ascertain the temperature of any object, we 
instinctively touch it with the inside of the fingers; on 
the contrary, if we desire to ascertain our own tempera- 
ture, we do so by laying the back of the hand upon 
some isolated and indifierent object. Convinced, there- 
fore, that the right and left sides of the human body are 
differently magnetized, I was not long in finding a solu- 
tion of the peculiar phenomenon, which at first aston- 



126 Caxtoii s Book. 

isbed me so greatly. In fact, my body had become an 
electrical machine, and by bringing the two poles into 
contact, as was affected by linking my right and left sides 
together, by means of my left hand, a battery had been 
formed, and the result was, the paralysis or magnetiza- 
tion of my right arm and hand, such being precisely 
the effect caused by a sphitual circle, — as it has been 
denominated. My arm and hand represented, in all 
respects, a table duly charged, and the same phe- 
nomenon could be produced, if I was right in my 
conjectures. 

Immediately, therefore, I set about testing the truth 
of this hypothesis. I asked, half aloud, if there were 
any spirits present. My hand instantly closed, except 
the forefinger, and gave three distinctive jerks that 
almost elevated my elbow from its position. A negative 
reply was soon given to a subsequent question by a 
single jerk of the hand; and thus I was enabled to hold 
a conversation in monosyllables with my invisible com- 
panions. 

It is unnecessary to detail the whole of the interview 
"which followed. I will only add that portion of it 
which is intimately connected with this narrative. 
Strange as it may appear, I had until this moment for- 
gotten all about the beautiful apparition that appeared 
and disappeared so mysteriously at Castillo Viejo. All 
at once, however, the recollection revived, and I remem- 
Ibered the promise contained in the single word she 
murmured, ' ' Palenque ! " 

Overmastering my excitement, I whispered: 

"Beautiful spirit, that once met me on the ramparts 
where Lord Nelson fought and conquered, art thou 
here?" 

An affirmative reply. 

"Will you appear and redeem your promise?" 



The Aztec Princess. 127 

Suddenly, tlie branches of the neighboring trees 
ivaved and nodded; the cold marbles about me seemed 
animated with life, and crashed and struck each other 
with great violence ; the old pyramid trembled to 
its centre, as if shaken by an earthquake; and the forest 
around moaned as though a tempest was sweeping by. 
At the same instant, full in the bright moonlight, and 
standing within three paces of my feet, appeared the 
Aztec Princess, whose waving^jajiac/ie, flowing garments 
and benignant countenance had bewildered me many 
months before, on the moss-grown parapet of Castillo 
Viejo. 



CHAPTEE IV, 



" Millious of spiritual creatures walk the earth 
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep." 

— Pakadisk Lost. 

Was I dreaming, or was the vision real, that my eyes 
beheld ? This was the first calm thought that coursed 
through my bi'ain, after the terror and amazement had 
subsided. Awe-struck I certainly was, when the beau- 
tiful phantom first rose upon my sight, at Castillo; awe- 
struck once more, when she again appeared, amid the 
^ray old ruins of Casa Grande. I have listened very 
often to the surmises of others, as they detailed what 
they would do, were a supernatural being to rise up 
suddenly before them. Some have said, they would 
gaze deliberately into the face of the phantom, scan its 
every feature, and coolly note down, for the benefit of 
others, how long it "walked," and in what manner it 
faded from the sight. The nerves of these very men 
trembled while they spoke, and had an apparition burst 
at that instant into full view, these heroes in imagina- 
tion would have crouched and hid their faces, their 



128 Caxtons Book. 

teeth chattering Avith terror, and their hearts beating: 
their swelling sides, as audibly as the convict hears his- 
own when the hangman draws the black cap over his 
unrepentant head. 

I blame no man for yielding to the dictates of Nature- 
He is but a fool who feels no fear, and hears not a warn- 
ing in the wind, observes not a sign in the heavens, and 
perceives no admonition in the air, when hurricanes are 
brooding, clouds are gathering, or earthquakes mutter- 
ing in his ears. The sane mind listens, and thwarts 
danger by its apprehensions. 

The true hero is not the man who knows no fear — for 
that were idiotic — but he who sees it, and escapes it, or 
meets it bravely. Was it courage in the elder Pliny to 
venture so closely to the crater of Vesuvius, whilst in 
eruption, that he lost his life ? How can man make war 
with the elements, or battle with his God? 

There is, in the secret chambers of every human heart, 
one dark, weird cell, over whose portal is inscribed — 
Mystery. There Superstition sits upon her throne ^ 
there Idolatry shapes her monsters, and there Religion, 
reveals her glories. Within that cell, the soul com- 
munes with itself most intimately, confesses its mid- 
night cowardice, and in low whispers mutters its dread 
of the supernatural. 

All races, all nations, and all times have felt its in- 
fluences, oozing like imperceptible dews from the mouth: 
of that dark cavern. 

Vishnu heard its deep mutterings in the morning of 
our race, and they still sound hollow but indistinct, like 
clods upon a coffin-lid, along the wave of each genera- 
tion, as it rises and rolls into the past. Plato and Numa 
and Cicero and Brutus listened to its prophetic cadences, 
as they fell upon their ears. Mohammed heard them in. 



The Aztec Priiicess. 129 

liis cave, Samuel Jolmson iu his bed. Poets have caught 
them in the 

"Shivering whisper of startled leaves," 

martyrs in the crackling faggots, heroes amid the din 
of battle. 

If you ask, what means this voice ? I reply, 

"A solemn mnrmur in the soul 
Tdls of the world to be, 
As travelers hear the billows roll 
Before thej' reach the sea." 

Let no man, therefore, boast that he has no dread of 
the supernatural. When mortal can look spirit in the 
face, without blanching, man Avill be immortal. 

To convince myself that I did not dream, I rose upon 
my elbow, and reclined for a moment in that attitude. 
Gradually I gained my feet, and then stood confrontiug 
the Aztec maiden. The midnight breeze of the tropics 
had set in, and by the clear moonlight I distinctly saw 
the panache of feathers that slie wore upon her head 
swaying gracefully upon the air. 

Convinced now, beyond all doubt, that the scene was 
real, the ruling desire of my life came back in full force 
upon me, and I spoke, in a hoarse whisper, the follow- 
ing words : 

' ' Here lies a buried realm ; I would be its historian !" 

The apparition, without any reply in words, glided 
toward me, and approached so close that I could easily 
have touched her had I dared. But a sense of propri- 
ety subdued all unhallowed curiosity, and I determined 
to submit passively to all that my new friend should do. 
This state of mind seemed at once known to her, for 
she smiled approvingly, and came still nearer to where 
I stood. 
9 



130 Caxtojis Book. 

Elevating her beautiful arm, she passed it gently over 
my face, her hand just touching my features, and im- 
parting a cool sensation to my skin. I distinctly re- 
member that the hand felt damp. No sooner was this 
done than my nervous system seemed to be restored to 
its usual tone, and every sensation of alarm vanished. 

My brain began to feel light and swimmy, and my 
whole frame appeared to be losing its weight. This 
peculiar sensation gradually increased in intensity until 
full conviction flashed upon me that I could, by an 
effort of will, rise into the air, and fly with all the ease 
and rapidity of an eagle. 

The idea was no sooner fully conceived, than I noticed 
a wavy, unsteady motion in the figure of the Aztec Prin- 
cess, and almost immediately afterwards, I perceived 
that she was gradually rising from the broken pavement 
upon which she had been standing, and passing slowly 
upwards through the branches of the overshadowing 
trees. What was most remaikable, the relative distance 
between us did not seem to increase, and my amaze- 
ment was inconceivable, when on casting my eyes 
toward my feet, I perceived that I was elevated more 
than twenty yards from the pavement where I had slept. 

My ascent had been so gradual, that I was entirely 
unaware of moving, and now that I became sensible of 
it, the motion itself was still imperceptible. Upward, 
still upward, I was carried, until the tallest limbs of the 
loftiest trees had been left far below me. Still the 
ascent continued. A wide and beautiful panorama now 
opened before me. Above, all was flashing moonlight 
and starry radiance. The beams of the full moon grew 
more brilliant as we cleared the vapory atmosphere 
contiguous to the earth, until they shone with half the 
splendor of morn, and glanced upon the features of my 



The Aztec Princess. 131 

-companion with a mellow sheen, that heightened a 
thousandfold her supermundane beauty. Below, the 
gray old relics of a once populous capital glimmered 
sj^ectrally in the distance, looking like tombs, shrouded 
by a weeping forest; whilst one by one, the mourners 
lost their individuality, and ere long presented but a 
dark mass of living green. After having risen several 
hundred feet perpendicularly, I was enabled to form an 
estimate of the extent of the forest, in the bosom of 
which sleep and moulder the monuments of the aborig- 
inal Americans. There is no such forest existing else- 
where on the surface of this great globe. It has no 
parallel in nature. The Black Forest of Germany, the 
Thuriugian Forest of Saxony, the Cross Timbers of 
Texas, the dense and inaccessible woods cloaking the 
headwaters of the Amazon and the La Plata, are mere 
parks in comparison. For miles and miles, leagues and 
leagues, it stretched out — north, south, east and west. 
It covers an area larger than the island of Great Britain; 
and throughout this immense extent of country there is 
but one mountain chain, and but one river. The sum- 
mits of this range have been but seldom seen by white 
men, and have never been scaled. The river drains the 
whole territory, but loses itself in a terrific marsh before 
its tide reaches the Mexican gulf, toward which it runs. 
The current is exceedingly rapid; and, after passing for 
hundreds of miles under the land and under the sea, it 
unites its submarine torrent near the west end of Cuba, 
with that of the Orinoco and the Amazon, and thus 
forms that great oceanic river called the Gulf Stream. 
Professor Maury was right in his philosophic conjecture 
as to the origin of that mighty and resistless tide. 

Having attained a great height perpendicularly above 
the spot of our departure, we suddenly dashed off with 



132 Caxton s Book. 

the speed of an express locomotive, toward the north- 
east. 

Whither we were hastening, I knew not; nor did I 
trouble my mind with any useless conjectures. I felt 
secure in the power of my companion, and sure of her 
protection. I knew that by some unaccountable pro- 
cess she had neutralized the gravitating force of a 
material body, had elevated me hundreds, perhaps 
thousands, of feet in the atmosphere, and by some 
mysterious charm was attracting me toward a distant 
bourne. Years before, whilst a medical student at the 
University of Louisiana, the professor of materia medica 
had opened his course of lectures with an inquiry into 
the origin and essence of gravitation, and I had listened 
respectfully, but at that time doubtingly, to the theory 
he propounded. He stated that it was not unphilo- 
sophical to believe that the time would arrive when the 
gravitating power of dense bodies would be overcome, 
and balloons constructed to navigate the air with the 
same unerring certainty that ships traversed the ocean. 

He declared that gravitation itself was not a cause 
but an effect; that it might be produced by the rotation 
of the earth upon its axis, or by some undiscovered 
current of electricity, or by some recondite and hitherto 
undetected agent or force in nature. Magnetism he 
thought a species of electricity, and subsequent investi- 
gations have convinced me that sympathy or animal 
magnetism was akin to the same parent power. By 
means of this latter agent I had seen the human body 
rendered so light that two persons could raise it with a 
single finger properly applied. More than this, I had 
but recently witnessed at Castillo, dead matter clothed 
with life and motion, and elevated several feet into the 
air without the aid of any human agency. This age I 



The Aztec Princess. 133 

knew well to be an age of wonders. Nature was yield- 
ing up lier secrets on every hand; tlie boundary between 
the natural and the spiritual had been broken down; 
new worlds Avere flashing upon the eyes of the followers 
of Galileo almost nightly from the ocean depths of 
space. Incalculable treasures had been discovered in 
the most distant ends of the earth, and I, unlettered 
hind that I was, did not presume to limit the power of 
the great Creator, and because an act seemed impossi- 
ble to my narrow vision, and within my limited expe- 
rience, to cry aloud, impostuix, or to mutter sneeringly, 
in sanity. 

Before proceeding farther with the thread of this 
narrative, the attention of the reader is solicited to the 
careful perusal of the following extracts from Stephens's 
Travels in Central America, Chiapas and Yucatan, pub- 
lished at New York in 1841. 

But the Padre told us more; something that increased 
our excitement to the highest pitch. On the other side of 
the great traversing range of Cordilleras lies the district of 
Vera Paz, once called Tierra de Guerra, or land of war, 
from the warlike character of its aboriginal inhabitants. 
Three times the Spaniards were driven back in their attemjot 
to conquer it.* 

The rest of the Tierra de Guerra never was conquered; 
and at this day the northeastern section bounded by the 
range of the Cordilleras and the State of Chiapa is occu- 
pied by Cadones, or uubaptized Indians, who live as their 
fathers did, acknowledging no submission to the Spaniards, 
and the government of Central America does not pretend 
to exercise any control over them. But the thing that 
roused us was the assertion by the Padre that four days on 
the road to Mexico, on the other side of the Great Sierra, 
was a Living City, large and populous, occupied by Indians, 
precisely in the same state as before the discoveiy of Amer- 
ica. He had heard of it many years before, at the village of 
Chajal, and Avas told by the villagers that from the topmost 

* Page 193, Vol. 2. 



1 34 Caxtoji s Book. 

ridge of the Sierra this city was distincth' visible. He was. 
then young-, and Avith much labor climbed to the naked 
summit of the Sierra, from which, at a height of ten or 
twelve thousand feet, he looked over an immense plain ex- 
tending to Yucatan and the Gulf of Mexico, and saw at a 
great distance a large city, spread over a great space, and 
with turrets white and glittering in the sun. The tradition- 
ary account of the Indians of Chajal is, that no white man 
has ever reached the city; that the inhabitants speak the 
Maya language; are aware that a race of strangers has con- 
quered the whole country around, and murder any white 
man who attempts to enter their territory. They have no 
coin or other circulating medium; no horses, cattle, mules, 
or other domestic animals, except fowls, and the cocks they 
keej) under groiind to prevent their crowing being heard.* 

Mr. Stephens then adds : 

One look at that city is worth ten years of an every-day 
life. If he is right, a place is left where Indians and an 
Indian city exist as Cortez and Alvarado found them. 
There are living men who can solve the mystery that hangs 
over the ruined cities of- America; perhaps, w'ho can go to 
Copan and Palenque and read the inscriptions on their mon- 
uments. 

********** 

The moon, long past the meridian, was sinking 
slowly to her western goal, whilst the east was already 
beginning to blush and redden Avith the daAvn. Before 
us rose high and clear three distinct mountain peaks, 
covered with a mantle of snow. I began to tremble 
with cold. But our pace did not slacken, nor our alti- 
tude diminish. On the contrary, we began to rise 
gradually, until we found ourselves nearly upon a level 
with the three peaks. Selecting an opening or gap 
betwixt the two westernmost, we glided through like 
the Avind. I shivered and my teeth chattered as we 
skimmed along those everlasting snoAvs. Here, thought 
I, the condor builds his nest in summer, and the ava- 

* Ibid, rnoe rJ5. 



The Aztec Princess. 135 

lanclies find a home. TLo eagle's wing has not strength 
enough to battle Avith this thin and freezing atmos- 
phere, and no living thing but "the proud bird, the 
condor of the Andes," ever scaled these hoarj summits. 
But our descent had already commenced. Gradually, 
as the morning broke, the region of ice and snow was 
left behind us, and just as the first ray of the rising 
sun shot over the peaks we had but a moment before 
surmounted, I beheld, glittering in the dim and shadowy 
distance, the white walls of a magnificent city. An 
exclamation of surprise and pleasure involuntarily 
escaped my lips; but one glance at my companion 
checked all further utterance. She raised her rounded 
forefinger to her lip, and made a gesture, whose purport 
I well understood. 

We swept over forests and cornfields and vineyards, 
the city growing upon the vision every moment, and 
rising like the Mexican capital, when first beheld by 
Europeans from the bosom of a magnificent lake. 
Finally, we found ourselves immediately above it, and 
almost at the same moment, began to descend. In a 
few seconds I stood alone, in a large open space, sur- 
rounded upon all sides by lofty stone edifices, erected 
upon huge pyramidal structures, that resembled the 
forest-covered mounds at Palenque. The day had fully 
dawned, but I observed no inhabitants. Presently a 
single individual appeared upon one of the towers near 
me, and gave a loud, shrill whistle, such as we some- 
times hear in crowded theatres. In an instant it was 
echoed and re-echoed a thousand times, upon every 
side, and immediately the immense city seemed to be 
awake, as if by magic. They poured by thousands 
into the open square, where I stood petrified with 
astonishment. Before me, like a vision of midnight, 



136 Caxtoii s Book. 

marclied by, in almost countless throngs, battalion on 
battalion of a race of men deemed and recorded ex- 
tinct by the wisest historians. 

They presented the most picturesque appearance 
imaginable, dressed apparently in holiday attire, and 
keeping step to a low air, performed on instruments 
emitting a dull, confused sound, that seldom rose so as 
to be heard at any great distance. 

They continued promenading the square, until the 
first level ray of sunshine fell upon the great Teocallis 
— as it was designated by the Spaniards — then with 
unanimous action they fell upon their faces, striking 
their foreheads three times upon the mosaic pavement. 
Just as they rose to their feet, I observed four persons, 
most gorgeously dressed, descending the steps of the 
Temple, bearing a palanquin, in which sat a single indi- 
vidual. My attention was at once arrested by her 
appearance, for she was a woman. She was arrayed in 
a panache, or head-dress, made entirely of the plumage 
of the Quezale, the royal bird of Quiche, It was by far 
the most tasteful and becoming ornament to the head I 
ever beheld, besides being the most magnificent. It is 
impossible to describe the graceful movement of those 
waving plumes, as they were stirred by the slightest 
inclination of the head, or the softest aspiration of the 
breeze. But the effect was greatly heightened by the 
constant change of color which they underwent. Blue 
and crimson, and orange and gold, were so blended that 
the eye was equally dazzled and delighted. But the 
utmost astonishment pervaded me, when, upon closely 
scrutinizing her features, I thought I recognized the 
beautiful face of the Aztec Princess. Little leisure, 
however, was afforded me for this purpose, for no sooner 
had her subjects, the assembled thousands, bowed with 



The Aztec Prificess. 137 

•deferential respect to their sovereign, than a company 
of drilled guards marched up to where I stood, and 
unresistingly made me prisoner. 

It is useless to attempt a full description of the im- 
posing ceremony I had witnessed, or to portray the 
appearance of those who took the most prominent parts. 
Their costume corresponded precisely with that of the 
figures in has-relief on the sculptured monuments at 
Palenque. Each wore a gorgeous head-dress, generally 
of feathers, carried an instrument decorated with rib- 
bons, feathers and skins, which appeared to be a war- 
club, and wore huge sashes of yellow, green, or crimson 
cotton cloth, knotted before and behind, and falling in 
graceful folds almost to the ground. 

Hitherto not a word had been spoken. The ceremony 
I had witnessed was a religious one, and was at once 
interpreted by me to be the worship of the sun. I 
remembered well that the ancient Peruvians were heliol- 
^ters, and my imagination had been dazzled when but 
a child by the gorgeous description given by the his- 
torian Robertson, of the great Temple of the Sun at 
Cuzco. There the Incas had worshiped the God of 
Day from the period Avhen Manco Capac came from the 
distant Island of Oello, and taught the native Indians 
the rudiments of civilization, until the life of the last 
•scion of ro^^al blood was sacrificed to the perfidy of the 
Spanish invaders. These historical facts had long been 
familiar to my mind; but I did not recollect any facts 
going to show that the ancient Aztecs were likewise 
heliolaters; but further doubt was now impossible. 

In perfect silence I was hurried up the stone steps of 
the great Teocallis, toward the palace erected upon its 
summit, into whose broad and lofty corridors we soon 
entered. These we traversed in several directions, 



138 Caxton s Book. 

leaving the more outward and gradually approaching 
the heart or central apartments. 

Finally, I was ushered into one of the most magnifi- 
cently decorated audience-chambers that the eye of man 
ever beheld. 

We were surrounded by immense tablets of has-reliefs- 
sculptured in white and black marble, and presenting,, 
evidently, a connected history of the ancient heroes of 
the race. Beside each tablet triple rows of hiero- 
glyphics were carved in the solid stone, unquestionably 
giving in detail the history of the hero or chief whose 
likeness stood near them. Many of these appeared to 
be females, but, judging from the sceptre each carried, 
I was pursuaded that the old Salique law of France and 
other European nations never was acknowledged by the 
aboriginal Americans. 

The roof was high, and decorated with the plumage^ 
of the Quezale and other tropical birds, whilst a throne 
was erected in the centre of the apartment, glittering; 
in gold and silver ornaments, hung about with beautiful 
shells, and lined with the skins of the native leopard, 
prepared in the most exquisite style. 

Seated upon a throne, I recognized the princess M'hose 
morning devotions I had just witnessed. At a gesture, 
I was carried up close to the foot of the throne. 

After closely inspecting her features, I satisfied myself 
that she was not the companion of my mysterious 
journey, being several years older in appearance, and 
of a darker complexion. Still, there was a very strik- 
ing resemblance between them, and it was evident that 
they not only belonged to the same race, but to the 
same family. I looked up at her with great respect, 
anticipating some encouraging word or sign. But 
instead of speaking, she commenced a low, melodious. 



The Aztec Princess. 193, 

whistle, eying me intently during the whole time. 
Ceasing, she evidently anticipated some reply on my 
part, and I at once accosted her in the following terms r 

"Most beautiful Princess, lam not voluntarily an in- 
vader of your realm. I was transported hither in a 
manner as mysterious as it was unexpected. Teach me 
bat to read these hieroglyphics, and I will quit your 
territories forever." 

A smile flitted across the features of the Princess as I 
uttered these words; and she gave an order, by a sharp 
whistle, to an officer that stood near, who immediately 
disappeared. In a few moments, he returned, bringing 
with him a native dressed very coarsely in white cotton 
cloth, and who carried an empty jar, or water tank, upon 
his head. He was evidently a laborer, and, judging 
from the low obeisances he constantly made, much to- 
the amusement of the courtiers standing around, I am 
satisfied that he never before in his whole life had been 
admitted to the presence of his sovereign. 

Making a gesture to the officer who had introduced 
him, he spoke a few low words to the native, who im- 
mediately turned toward me, and uttered, slowly and 
distinctl}^ the following sentence: 

" Ix-itl hua-atl zi-petl poppicobatl." 

I shook my head despairingly. Several other at- 
tempts to communicate with me were made, both by 
the Princess and the interpreter, but all to no purpose. 
I could neither understand the melodies nor the jargon. 
But I noticed throughout all these proceedings that there 
seemed to be two entirely distinct modes of expression;, 
the first by whistling, and the second by utterance. 
The idea at once flashed across my mind, that there 
were two languages used in the counti-y — one sacred to 
the blood royal and the nobility, and the other used by 



140 Caxto7i s Book. 

the common people. Impressed witli this thought, I 
immediately set about verifying it by experiment. 

It is unnecessary to detail the ingenious methods I 
devised to ascertain this fact. It is sufficient for the 
present purposes of this narrative to state, that, during 
the day, T was abundantly satisfied with the truth of my 
surmise; and that, before night, I learned another fact, 
equally important, that the hieroglyphics were written 
in the royal tongue, and could be read only by those 
connected by ties of blood with the reigning family. 

There was at first something ludicrous in the idea of 
■communicating thought by sound emitted in the way in- 
dicated above. In my wildest dreams, the notion of 
such a thing being possible had never occurred to my 
imagination. And when the naked fact was now de- 
monstrated to me every moment, I could scarcely credit 
my senses. Still, when I reflected that night upon it, 
after I retired to rest, the system did not appear unnat- 
ural, nor even improbable. Birds, I knew, made use of 
the same musical tongue; and when but a boy, on the 
.shores of the distant Albemarle, I had often listened, 
till long after midnight, to the wonderful loquacity of 
the common mocking-bird, as she poured forth her 
summer strains. Who has not heard the turtle dove 
wooing her mate in tones that were only not human, 
because they were more sadly beautiful ? Many a be- 
lated traveler has placed his hand upon his sword-hilt, 
and looked suspiciously behind him, as the deep bass 
note of the owl has startled the dewy air. The cock's 
crow has become a synonym for a psean of triumph. 

Remembering all these varieties in sound that the air 
is capable of, when cut, as it were, by whistling, I no 
longer doubted that a language could easily be con- 
structed by analyzing the several tones and giving value 
to their different modulations. 



The Aztec Princess. 141 

The ludicrousness of the idea soon gave place tO' 
admiration, and before I had been domiciliated in the 
palace of the Princess a month, I had become perfectly 
infatuated with her native language, and regarded it as 
the most beautiful and expressive ever spoken by man. 
And now, after several years have elapsed since its melo- 
dious accents have fallen upon my ears, I hesitate not to 
assert that for richness and variety of tone, for force and 
depth of expression, for harmony and sweetness — in; 
short, for all those characteristics that give beauty and 
strength to spoken thought — the royal tongue of the- 
aboriginal Americans is without a rival. 

For many days after my mysterious appearance in 
the midst of the great city I have described, my fate 
still hung in the balance. I was examined and re-ex- 
amined a hundred times as to the mode of my 
entrance into the valley; but I always persisted in 
making the same gestures, and pointed to the sky as 
the region whence I had descended. The guards sta- 
tioned at every avenue of entrance and exit were 
summoned to the capital, and questioned closely as to 
the probability of my having passed them unawares; 
but they fully exculpated themselves from all blame, 
and were restored to their forfeited posts. 

Gradually the excitement in the city subsided, and 
one by one the great nobles were won over to credit the 
story of my celestial arrival in their midst, and I 
believed the great object of my existence in a fair way 
to be accomplished. 

Every facility was afforded me to learn the royal 
tongue, and after a little more than a year's residence 
in the palace, I spoke it with considerable fluency and 
accuracy. 

But all my efibrts hitherto were vain to obtain a key 



142 Caxtoii s Book. 

\o the hieroglyphics. Not only was the offense capital 
to teach their alphabet to a stranger, but equally so to 
natives themselves, unconnected with the blood royal. 
With all my ingenuity and industry, I had not advanced 
a single letter. 

One night, as I lay tossing restlessly upon my bed, 
revolving this insoluble enigma in my mind, one of the 
mosaic paving-stones was suddenly lifted up in the 
middle of the room, and the figure of a young man with 
a lighted taper in his hand stood before me. 

Raising my head hastily from the pillow, I almost 
sank back with astonishment when I recognized in the 
form and features of my midnight visitor, Pio the Carib 
boy. 

CHAPTER v. 

" There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 
Than are dreamt of in your philosojjhy." 

— tShaespeaee. 

I SPRANG to my feet with all the eagerness of joy, and 
was about to rush into the arms of Pio, when he sud- 
denly checked my enthusiasm by extinguishing the 
light. I stood still and erect, like one petrified into 
stone. That moment I felt a hand upon my arm, then 
around my waist, and ere I could collect my thoughts, 
was distinctly lifted from the ground. But I was 
-carried only a few steps. On touching the floor with 
my feet, I was planted firmly, and the arms of my com- 
panion were tightly drawn around my own so as to 
prevent me from raising them. The next instant, and 
the stone upon which we stood suddenly slid from its 
position, and gradually sank perpendicularly, — we still 
retaining our position upon it. 

Our descent was not rapid, nor did I deem it very 



The Aztec Princess. 143 

secure; for tbe trap-door trembled uuder us, and more 
ihan once seemed to touch the shaft into which we were 
'descending. A few moments more and we landed 
securely upon a solid pavement. My companion then 
disengaged his hold, and stepping off a few paces, pro- 
nounced the words " We are liereV in the royal tongue, 
and immediatel}^ a panel slid from the side of the apart- 
anent, and a long passage-way, lighted at the further 
-end by a single candle, displayed itself to view. Into 
that passage we at once entered, and without exchang- 
ing a single word, walked rapidly toward the light. 

The light stood upon a stone stand about four feet 
high, at the intersection of these passages. We took the 
one to the left, and advanced twenty or thirty yards, 
when Pio halted. On coming up to him, he placed his 
mouth close to the wall, and exclaimed as before, "We 
are here." A huge block of granite swung inward, 
and we entered a small but well-lighted apartment, 
around which were hanging several costly and magnifi- 
cent suits of Palenquin costume. 

Hastily seizing two of them, Pio commenced arraying 
himself in one, and requested me by a gesture to don 
the other. With a little assistance, I soon found myself 
•decked from head to foot in a complete suit of regal 
robes — panache, sash, and sandals inclusive. 

When all was completed, Pio, for the first time, ad- 
dressed me as follows: "Young stranger, whoever you 
may be, or to whatever nation you may belong, matters 
but little to me. The attendant guardian spirit of our 
race and country has conducted you hither, in the most 
mysterious manner, and now commands me to have you 
instructed in the most sacred lore of the Aztecs. Your 
long residence in this palace has fully convinced you of 
the danger to which we are both exposed; I in reveal- 



144 Caxton s Book. 

ing and you in acquiring tlie key to the interpretation 
of the historical records of my country. I need not 
assure you that our lives are both forfeited, should the 
slightest suspicion be aroused in the breasts of the 
Princess or the nobility. 

"You are now dressed in the appropriate costume of 
a student of our literature, and must attend me nightly 
at the gathering of the Queen's kindred to be instructed 
in the art. Express no surprise at anything you see or 
hear; keep your face concealed as much as j)ossible^ 
fear nothing, and follow me." 

At a preconcerted signal given by Pio, a door flew 
open and we entered the vestibule of a large and bril- 
liantly illuminated chamber. 

As soon as we passed the entrance I saw before m& 
not less than two hundred young persons of both sexes, 
habited in the peculiar garb of students, like our own. 
We advanced slowly and noiselessly, until we reached 
two vacant places, prepared evidently beforehand for 
us. Our entrance was not noticed by the classes, nor 
by those whom I afterwards recognized as teachers. 
All seemed intent upon the problem before them, and 
evinced no curiosity to observe the new comers. My 
own curiosity at this moment was intense, and had it 
not been for the prudent cautious constantly given me 
by Pio, by touching my robes or my feet, an exposure 
most probably would have occurred the first night of my 
initiation, and the narrative of these adventures never 
been written. 

My presence of mind, however, soon came to my 
assistance, and before the evening w^as over, I had, by 
shrewdly noticing the conduct of others, shaped my own 
into perfect conformity with theirs, and rendered detec- 
tion next to impossible. 



The Aztec Pri?icess. 145 

It now becomes necessary to digress a moment from 
the thread of my story, and give an accurate descrip- 
tion of the persons I beheld around me, the chamber 
in which we were gathered, and the peculiar mode of 
instruction pursued by the sages. 

The scholars were mostly young men and women, 
averaging in age about twenty years. They all wore the 
emblem of royalty, which I at once recognized in the 
'panache of Quezale plumes that graced their heads. 
They stood in semi-circular rows, the platform rising as 
they receded from the staging in front, like seats in an 
amphitheatre. Upon the stage were seated five indi- 
viduals — two of the male, and three of the female sex. 
An old man was standing up, near the edge of the stage, 
holding in his hands two very cunningly-constructed 
instruments. At the back of the stage, a very large, 
smooth tablet of black marble was iuserted in the wall, 
and a royal personage stood near it, upon one side, with 
a common piece of chalk in his right hand, and a cotton 
napkin in the left. This reminded me but too truthfully 
of the fourth book of Euclid and Nassau Hall; and I 
was again reminded of the great mathematician before 
the assembly broke up, and of his reply to that King of 
Sicily, who inquired if there were no easy way of ac- 
quiring mathematics. * ' None, your Highness, " replied 
the philosopher; "there is no royal road to learning." 
Labor, I soon found, was the only price, even amongst 
the Aztecs, at which knowledge could be bought. Each 
student was furnished with the same species of instru- 
ments which the old man before-mentioned held in his 
hands. 

The one held in the left hand resembled a white por- 
celain slate, only being much larger than those in com- 
mon use. It was nearly twenty inches square, and was 
10 



146 Caxtoii s Book. 

divided by matliematical lines into thirty-six compart- 
ments. It was covered over with a thin crystal, resem- 
bling glass, which is found in great quantities in the 
neighboring mountains, and is perfectly transparent. 
The crystal was raised about the one eighth of an inch 
from the surface of the slate, and allowed a very fine 
species of black sand to move at will between them. 
The instrument carried in the right hand resembled 
the bow of a common violin, more than anything else. 
The outer edge was constructed of a beautiful yellow 
wood, polished, and bent into the arc of a quarter 
circle; whilst a mass of small cords, made of the native 
hemp, united the two ends. 

The method of using the bow was this: The slate 
was shaken violently once or twice, so as to distribute 
the black sand equally over the white surface, and then 
the bow was draAvn perpendicularly down the edge of 
the slate, very rapidly, so as to produce a quick whist- 
ling sound. The effect produced upon the grains of 
sand was truly wonderful to the uninitiated in the laws 
of acoustics. They arranged themselves into peculiar 
figures, sometimes in the form of a semicircle, some- 
times into that of a spiral, sometimes into a perfect 
circle, or a cone, or a rhomboid, or an oval, dependent 
entirely upon two things: first, the place where the 
slate was held by the left hand; and second, the point 
where the bow was drawn across the edge. As the 
slate was subdivided into thirty-six compartments, by 
either one of which it could be held, and as there was a 
corresponding point, across which the bow could be 
drawn, there were seventy-two primitive sounds that 
might be produced by means of this simple contrivance. 
Each of these sounds inherently and necessarily pro- 
duced a different figure upon the slate, and there were 



The Aztec Princess. 147 

consequently just seventy-two initial letters in tlie Aztec 
alphabet. 

Tlie mode of instruction was extremely simple. A 
word was pronounced by the aged teacher at the front 
of the stage, written upon his slate, exhibited to the 
scholar at the black tablet, and by him copied upon it. 
The whole class then drew down their bows, so as to 
produce the proper sound, and the word itself, or its 
initial letter, was immediately formed upon the slate. 

After the seventy-two primitive letters or sounds had 
"been learned, the next step was the art of combining 
them, so as not only to produce single words, but very 
often whole sentences. Thus the first hieroglyphic 
carved upon the tablet, on the back wall of the altar, 
in Casa No. 3 (forming the frontispiece of the second 
volume of Stephens's Travels in Central America), ex- 
presses, within itself, the name, date of birth, place of 
nativity, and parentage, of Xixencotl, the first king of 
the twenty-third dynasty of the Aztecs. 

The hieroglyphics of the Aztecs are all of them both 
symbolical and phonetic. Hence, in almost every one 
we observe, first, the primitive sound or initial letter, 
and its various combinations; and, secondly, some sym- 
bolic drawing, as a human face, for instance, or an 
eagle's bill, or a fish, denoting some peculiar character- 
istic of the person or thing delineated. 

But to return to the Hall of Students. The men and 
women on the stage were placed there as critics upon 
the pronunciation of each articulate sound. They were 
selected from the wisest men and best elocutionists in 
the kingdom, and never failed to detect the slightest 
error in the pronunciation of the tutor. 

The royal tongue of the Aztecs is the only one now in 
existence that is based upon natural philosophy and the 



148 Caxto7i s Book. 

laws of sound. It appeals both to the eje and ear of 
the speaker, and thus the nicest shades of thought may 
be clearly expressed. There is no such thing as stilted 
language amongst them, and logomachy is unknown. 

And here I may be permitted to observe that a wider 
field for research and discovery lies open in the domain 
of sound than in any other region of science. The laws 
of harmony, even, are but imperfectly understood, and 
the most accomplished musicians are mere tyros in the 
great science of acoustics. There is every reason to 
believe that there is an intimate but yet undiscovered 
link between mimher, light, and sound, whose solution 
will astonish and enlighten the generations that are ta 
succeed our own. When God spake theioorlds into being, 
the globular form they assumed loas not accidental, nor ar- 
bitrary, but depended essentially upon the tone of the great 
Architect, and the medium in lohich it resounded. 

Let the natural philosophers of the rising generation 
direct their especial attention toward the fields I have 
indicated, and the rewards awaiting their investigations 
will confer upon them immortality of fame. 

There is a reason why the musical scale should not 
mount in whole tones up to the octave ; why the mind 
grasps decimals easier than vulgar fractions, and why^ 
by the laws of light, the blood-red tint should be heav- 
ier than the violet. Let Nature, in these departments, 
be studied with the same care that Cuvier explored the 
organization of insects, that Liebig deduced the prop- 
erty of acids, and that Leverier computed the orbit of 
that unseen world which his genius has half created, 
and all the wonderful and beautiful secrets now on the 
eve of bursting into being from the dark domain of 
sound, color, and shape, will at once march forth into 
view, and take their destined places in the ranks of 
human knowledge. 



The Aztec Princess. 149 

Then the science of computation will be intuitive, as 
it was in the mind of Zerah Colburn ; the art of music 
creative, as in the plastic voices of Jehovah ; and the 
great principles of light and shape and color divine, 
as in the genius of Swedenborg and the imagination of 
Milton. 

I have now completed the outline of the sketch, 
which in the foregoing pages I proposed to lay before 
the world. 

The peculiar circumstances which led me to explore 
the remains of the aboriginal Americans, the adven- 
tures attending me in carrying out that design, the mode 
of my introduction into the Living City, spoken of by 
Stephens, and believed in by so many thousands of 
enlightened men, and above all, the wonderful and 
almost incredible character of the people I there en- 
countered, together with a rapid review of their lan- 
guage and literature, have been briefly but faithfully 
presented to the public. 

It but remains for me now to present my readers 
with a few specimens of Aztec literature, translated 
from the hieroglj'phics now moulderiug amid the forests 
of Cliiapa; to narrate the history of my escape from 
the Living City of the aborigines; to bespeak a friendly 
word for the forthcoming history of one of the earliest, 
most beautiful, and unfortunate of the Aztec queens, 
copied verbatim from the annals of her race, and to bid 
them one and all, for the present, a respectful adieu. 

Before copying from the blurred and water-soaked 
manuscript before me, a single extract from the literary 
remains of the monumental race amongst whom I have 
spent three years and a half of my early manhood, it 
may not be deemed improper to remark that a large 
work upon this subject is now in course of publication, 



150 Caxton s Book. 

containing the minutest details of the domestic life, 
public institutions, language, and laws of that interest- 
ing people. 

The extracts I present to the reader maybe relied 
upon as exactly correct, since they are taken from the 
memoranda made upon the spot. 

Directly in front of the throne, in the great audience- 
chamber described in the preceding chapter, and writ- 
ten in the most beautiful hieroglyphi extant, I found 
the following account of the origin of the land : 

The Great Spirit, whose emblem is the sun, held the 
water-drops out of which the world was made, in the hollow 
of his hand. He breathed a tone, and they rounded into 
the great globe, and started forth on the errand of counting^ 
up the years. 

Nothing existed but water and the great fishes of the sea. 
One eternity passed. The Great Spirit sent a solid star, 
round and beautiful, but dead and no longer burning, and 
plunged it into the depths of the oceans. Then the winds 
were born, and the rains began to fall. The animals next 
sprang into existence. They came up from the star-dust 
like wheat and maize. The round star floated upon the 
waters, and became the dry land; and the land was high, 
and its edges steep. It was circular, like a plate, and all 
connected together. 

The marriage of the land and the sea produced man, but 
his spirit came from the beams of the sun. 

Another eternity passed away, and the earth became too- 
full of people. They were all white, because the star fell 
into the cold seas, and the sun could not darken their com- 
plexions. 

Then the sea bubbled up in the middle of the land, and 
the country of the Aztecs floated off to the west. Wherever 
the star cracked open, there the waters rose up and made 
the deep sea. 

When the east and the west come together again, they 
will tit like a garment that has been torn. 

Then followed a rough outline of the western coasts 
of Europe and Africa, and directly opposite the coasts- 



The Aztec Princess. 151 

of North and South America. The projections of the 
one exactly fitted the indentations of the other, and 
gave a semblance of truth and reality to the wild dream 
of the Aztec philosopher. Let the geographer compare 
them, and he will be more disposed to wonder than to 
sneer. 

I have not space enough left me to quote any further 
from the monumental inscriptions, but if the reader be 
curious upon this subject, I recommend to his attention 
the publication soon to come out, alluded to above. 

Some unusual event certainly had occurred in the city. 
The great plaza in front of the palace was thronged with 
a countless multitude of men and women, all clamoring 
for a sacrifice ! a sacrifice ! 

Whilst wondering what could be the cause of this 
commotion, I was suddenly summoned before the Prin- 
cess in the audience-chamber, so often alluded to 
before. 

My surprise was great when, upon presenting myself 
before her, I beheld, pinioned to a heavy log of mahog- 
any, a young man, evidently of European descent. 

The Princess requested me to interpret for her to the 
stranger, and the following colloquy took place. The 
conversation was in the French language. 

Q. " Who are you, and why do you invade my do- 
minions ?" 

A. "My name is Armand de L'Oreille. I am a 
Frenchman by birth. I was sent out by Lamartine, in 
1848, as attache to the expedition of M. de Bourbourg, 
whose duties were to explore the forests in the neigh- 
borhood of Palenque, to collate the language of the 
Central-American Indians, to copy the inscriptions on 
the monuments, and, if possible, to reach the Living 



152 Caxto7i s Book. 

City meutioned by Waldeck, Dupaix, and the Ameri- 
can traveler Stephens." 

Q. " But why are you alone ? Where is the party to 
which you belonged ? " 

A. " Most of them returned to Palenque, after wan- 
dering in the wilderness a few days. Five only deter- 
mined to proceed; of that number I am the only sur- 
vivor." 

Here the interview closed. 

The council and the queen were not long in determin- 
ing the fate of M. de L'Oreille. It was unanimously 
resolved that he should surrender his life as a forfeit to 
his temerity. 

The next morning, at sunrise, was fixed for his death. 
He was to be sacrificed upon the altar, on the summit 
of the great Teocallis — an offering to Quetzalcokuatl, the 
first great prince of the Aztecs. I at once determined 
to save the life of the stranger, if I could do so, even at 
the hazard of my own. But fate ordained it otherwise. 
I retired earlier than usual, and lay silent and moody, 
revolving on the best means to accomplish my end. 

Midnight at length arrived; I crept stealthily from 
my bed, and opened the door of my chamber, as lightly 
as sleep creeps over the eyelids of children. But 

[Here the MS. is so blotted, and saturated with salt- 
water, as to be illegible for several pages. The next 
legible sentences are as follows. — Ed.] 

Here, for the first time, the woods looked familiar to 
me. Proceeding a few steps, I fell into the trail lead- 
ing toward the modern village of Palenque, and, after 
an hour's walk, I halted in front of the cahilda of the 
town. 

I was followed by a motley crowd to the office of the 
Alcalde, who did not recognize me, dressed as I was in 



The Aztec Princess. 153 

•skins, and half loaded down with rolls of MS., made 
from the bark of the mulberry. I related to him and 
M. de Bourbourg my adventures; and though the latter 
declared he had lost poor Armand and his five com- 
panions, yet I am persuaded that neither of them 
credited a single word of my story. 

Not many days after my safe arrival at Palenque, I 
seized a favorable opportunity to visit the ruins of Casa 
Grande. I readily found the opening to the subterra- 
nean passage heretofore described, and after some trou- 
blesome delays at the various landing-places, I finally 
Succeeded in reaching the very spot whence I had 
ascended on that eventful night, nearly three years 
before, in company with the Aztec Princess. 

After exploring many of the mouldering and half- 
ruined apartments of this immense palace, I accideutly 
■entered a small room, that at first seemed to have been 
a place of sacrifice; but, upon closer inspection, I ascer- 
tained that, like many of those in the " Living City," 
it was a chapel dedicated to the memory of some one of 
the princes of the Aztec race. 

In order to interpret the inscriptions with greater 
facility, I lit six or seven candles, and placed them in 
the best positions to illuminate the hieroglyphics. 
Then turning, to take a view of the grand tablet in the 
middle of the inscription, my astonishment was inde- 
scribable, when I beheld the exact features, dress and 
;panache of the Aztec maiden, carved in the everlasting 
marble before me. 



VIII. 

THE MOTHER'S EPISTLE. 

Q WEET daughter, leave thy tasks and toys, 
^^ Throw idle thoughts aside, 
And hearken to a mother's voice. 

That would thy footsteps guide; 
Though far across the rolling seas, 

Beyond the mountains blue. 
She sends her counsels on the breeze, 

And wafts her blessings too. 

To guard thy voyage o'er life's wave. 

To guide thy bark aright, 
To snatch thee from an early grave, 

And gild thy way with light. 
Thy mother calls thee to her side, 

And takes thee on her knee. 
In spite of oceans that divide, 

And thus addresses thee : 



Learn first this lesson in thy youth. 

Which time cannot destroy, 
To love and speak and act the truth- 

'Tis life's most holy joy; 
Wert thou a queen upon a throne. 

Decked in each royal gem, 
This little jewel would alone 

Outshine thy diadem. 



The Mother s Epistle. 155 

n. 
Next learn to conquer, as tliey rise, 

Each wave of passion's sea; 
Unchecked, 'twill sweep the vaulted skies. 

And vanquish heaven and thee; 
Lashed on by storms within thy breast. 

These billows of the soul 
Will wreck thy peace, desti"oy thy rest, 

And ruin as they roll ! 

in. 
But conquered passions were no gain. 

Unless where once they grew 
There falls the teardrop, like the rain, 

And gleams the morning dew; 
Sow flowers within thy virgin heart, 

That spring from guileless love; 
Extend to each a sister's part. 

Take lessons of the dove. 

IV. 

But, daughter, empty were our lives. 

And useless all our toils. 
If that within us, which survives 

Life's transient battle-broils. 
Were all untaught in heavenly lore. 

Unlearned in virtue's ways, 
Ungifted with religion's store, 

Unskilled our God to praise. 

V. 

Take for thy guide the Bible old, 

Consult its pages fair 
Within them glitter gems and gold, 

Repentance, Faith, and Praj-er; 
Make these companions of thy soul; 

Where e'er thy footsteps roam, 
And safely shalt thou reach thy goal, 

In heaven — the angfel's home! 



IX. 

LEGENDS OF LAKE BTGLER. 

I. THE HAUNTED ROCK. 

A GREAT many years ago, ero the first white man 
had trodden the soil of the American continent, 
and before the palaces of Uxmal and Palenqne were 
masses of shapeless ruins — whilst the splendid struct- 
ures, now lining the banks of the Gila with broken 
columns and fallen domes were inhabited by a nobler 
race than the cowardly Pimos or the Ishmaelitish 
Apaches, there lived and flourished on opposite shores 
of Lake Bigler two rival nations, disputing with each 
other for the supremacy of this inland sea, and making 
perpetual war in order to accomplish the object of their 
ambition. 

The tribe dwelling upon the western shore was called 
the Ako-ni-tas, whilst those inhabiting what is now the 
State of Nevada were known by the name of Gra-so- 
po-itas. Each nation was subdivided into smaller 
principalities, over which subordinate sachems, or 
chiefs, presided. In number, physical appearance, 
and advance in the arts of civilization, both very much 
resembled, and neither could be said to have decidedly 
the pre-eminence. 

At the time my story commences, Wan-ta-tay-to was 
principal chief or king of the Ako-ni-tas, or, as they 
were sometimes designated, O-kak-o-nitas, whilst Illiu- 
tog-au-di presided over the destinies of the Gra-so- 



Legends of Lake Biglcr. 157 

po-itas. Tho laugnage spoken l>y tlicso tribes were 
dialects of tho same original tongue, and could be 
easily understood the one by the other. Continued 
intei'course, even when at war, had assimilated their 
customs, laws and religion to such a degree that it 
often became a matter of grave doubt as to which tribe 
occasional deserters belonged. Intermarriage between 
the tribes was strictly forbidden, and punished witli 
death in all cases, no matter what might bo the rank, 
power or wealth of the violators of the law. 

At this era the surface of tho lake was about sixty 
feet higher than at the })resent time. Constant evapo- 
ration, or ])erhaps tlie wearing channel of tlio Truckee, 
has contributed to lower the level of the water, and 
the same causes still continue in operation, as is clearly 
•perceptible by the watermarks of previous years^ 
Thousands of splendid canoes everywhere dotted its 
surface; some of them engaged in the peaceful avoca- 
tions of fishing and hunting, whilst the large majority 
were manned and armed for immediate and deadly 
hostilities. 

The year preceding that in which the events occurred 
herein related, had been a very disastrous one to both 
tribes. A great many deaths had ensued from casu- 
alties in battle; but the chief source of disaster had 
been a most terrific hurricane, which had Hwe])t over 
the lake, upsetting, sinking, and destroying whole 
fleets of canoes, with all persons aboard at the time. 
Amongst the lost were both the royal barges, with the 
sons and daughters of the chiefs. Tho loss had been 
so overwhelming and general that the chief of the 
0-kak-o-nitas had but one solitary representative of 
the lino royal left, and that was a beloved daughter 
named Ta-kem-ena. The rival chieftain was equally 



158 Caxtori s Book. 

unfortunate, for his entire wigwam had perished with 
the exception of Mo-ca-ru-po, his youngest son. But 
these great misfortunes, instead of producing peace and 
good-will, as a universal calamity would be sure to do 
in an enlightened nation, tended only to embitter the 
passions of the hostile kings and lend new terrors to 
the war. At once made aware of what the other had 
isuffered, each promulgated a sort of proclamation, 
offering an immense reward for the scalp of his rival's 
lieir. 

Wan-ta-tay-to declared that he would give one half 
liis realm to whomsoever brought the body of Mo-ca- 
ru-po, dead or alive, within his lines ; and Rhu-tog- 
au-di, not to be outdone in extravagance, registered an 
oath that whosoever captured Ta-kem-ena, the beautiful 
•daughter of his enemy, should be rewarded with her 
patrimonial rights, and also be associated with him in 
ruling his own dominions. 

As is universally the case with all American Indians, 
the females are equally warlike and sometimes quite as 
brave as the males. Ta-kem-ena was no exception to 
this rule, and she accordingly made instant prepara- 
tions to capture or kill the heir to the throne of her 
■enemy. For this purpose she selected a small, light 
bark canoe, and resolved all alone to make the attempt. 
Nor did she communicate her intention to any one else. 
Her father, even, was kept in profound ignorance of his 
daughter's design. 

About the same time, a desire for fame, and a thirst- 
ing for supreme power, allured young Mo-ca-ru-po into 
the lists of those who became candidates for the recent 
reward offered by his father. He, too, determined to 
proceed alone. 

It was just at midnight, of a beautiful moonlight even- 



Legends of Lake Bigler. 159 

ing, that the young scions of royalty set forth from 
opposite shores of the lake, and stealthily paddled for 
the dominions of their enemies. When about half 
-across the boats came violently into collision. Each 
warrior seized arms for the conflict. The light of the 
full moon, riding at mid-heavens, fell softly upon the 
features of the Princess, and at the same time illumina- 
ted those of the 3^oung Prince. 

The blows from the uplifted battle-axes failed to de- 
scend. The poisoned arrows were returned to their 
quivers. Surprise gave place quickly to admiration — 
that to something more human — pity followed close in 
the rear, and love, triumphant everywhere, paralyzed 
tlie muscles, benumbed the faculties, and captured the 
souls of his victims. Pouring a handful of the pure 
water of the lake upon each other's heads, as a pledge 
of love, and a ceremonial of marriage, in another mo- 
ment the two were locked in each other's arms, made 
man and wife by the yearnings of the soul, and by a des- 
tiny which naught but Omnipotent Power could avert. 
What were the commands of kings, their threats, or 
their punishments, in the scale with youth, and hope, 
and love ? 

Never did those transparent waters leap more lightly 
beneath the moonbeams than upon this auspicious night. 
Hate, revenge, fame, power, all were forgotten in the 
supreme delights of love. 

Who, indeed, would not be a lover? The future 
takes the hue of the rainbow, and spans the whole earth 
with its arch. The past fades into instant oblivion, and 
its dark scenes are remembered no more. Every beauti- 
ful thing looks lovelier — spring's breath smells sweeter — 
the heavens bend lower — the stars shine brighter. The 
-eyes, the lips, the smiles of the loved one, bankrupt all 



i6o Caxton s Book. ' 

nature. The diamond's gleam, the flower's blush, the 
fountain's purity, are all her own! The antelope's swift- 
ness, the buffalo's strength, the lion's bravery, are but 
the reflex of liis manly soul! 

Fate thus had bound these two lovers in indissoluble 
bonds : let us now see what it had left in reserve. 

The plashing of paddles aroused the lovers from their 
caressing. Quickly leaping into his own boat, side by 
side, they flew over the exultant waves, careless for the 
moment whither they went, and really aimless in their 
destination. Having safely eluded their pursuers, if 
such they were, the princes now consulted as to their 
future course. After long and anxious debate it was 
finally determined that they should part for the pres- 
ent, and would each night continue to meet at midnight 
at the majestic rock which towered up from the waves- 
high into the heavens, not far from what is now known 
as Pray's Farm, that being the residence and headquar- 
ters of the 0-kak-oni-ta tribe. 

Accordingly, after many protestations of eternal fidel- 
ity, and warned by the ruddy gleam along the eastern 
sky, they parted. 

Night after night, for many weeks and months, the 
faithful lovers met at the appointed place, and proved 
their affection by their constancy. They soon made the 
discovery that the immense rock was hollow, and con- 
tained a magnificent cave. Here, safe from all observa- 
tion, the tardy months rolled by, both praying for peace, 
yet neither daring to mention a termination of hostilities 
to their sires. Finally, the usual concomitants of lawful 
wedlock began to grow manifest in the rounded form of 
the Princess — in her sadness, her drooping eyes, and 
her perpetual uneasiness whilst in the presence of her 
father. Not able any longer to conceal her griefs, they 



Legends of Lake Bigler. i6i 

became the court scandal, and she was summoned to 
the royal presence and required to name her lover. 
This, of course, she persisted in refusing, but spies 
having been set upon her movements, herself and lover 
were surrounded and entrapped in the fatal cave. 

In vain did she plead for the life of the young prince, 
regardless of her own. His doom was sealed. An 
embassador was sent to Khu-tog-au-di, announcing the 
treachery of his son, and inviting that chief to be present 
at the immolation of both victims. He willingly con- 
sented to assist in the ceremonies. A grand council of 
the two nations was immediately called, in order to 
determine in what manner the death penalty should be 
inflicted. After many and grave debates, it was re- 
solved that the lovers should be incarcerated in the 
dark and gloomy cave where they had spent so many 
happy hours, and there starve to death. 

It was a grand gala-day with the Okak-oni-tas and 
the Gra-sop-o-itas. The mighty chiefs had been recon- 
ciled, and the wealth, power and beauty of the two 
realms turned out in all the splendor of fresh paint 
and brilliant feathers, to do honor to the occasion. The 
young princes were to be put to death. The lake in the 
vicinity of the rock was alive with canoes. The hills in 
the neighborhood were crowded with spectators. The 
two old kings sat in the same splendid barge, and 
followed close after' the bark canoe in which the lovers 
were being conveyed to their living tomb. Silently 
they gazed into each other's faces and smiled. For 
each other had they lived; with one another were they 
now to die. Without food, without water, without 
light, they were hurried into their bridal chamber, and 
huge stones rolled against the only entrance. 

Evening after evening the chiefs sat upon the grave 
11 



1 62 Caxtou s Book. 

portals of their cliildreii. At first tliey were greeted with 
loud cries, extorted by the gnawing of hanger and the 
agony of thirst. Gradually the cries gave way to low 
moans, and finally, after ten days had elapsed, the tomb 
became as silent as the lips of the lovers. Then the 
huge stones were, by the command of the two kings, 
rolled away, and a select body of warriors ordered to 
enter and bring forth their lifeless forms. But the west 
wind had sprung up, and just as the stones were taken 
from the entrance, a low, deep, sorrowful sigh issued 
from the mouth of the cave. Startled and terrified 
beyond control, the warriors retreated hastily from the 
spot; and the weird utterances continuing, no warriors 
could be found brave enough to sound the depths of 
that dreadful sepulchre. Day after day canoes crowded 
about the mouth of the cave, and still the west wind 
blew, and still the sighs and moans continued to strike 
the souls of the trembling warriors. 

Finally, no canoe dared approach the spot. In pad- 
dling past they would always veer their canoes seaward, 
and hurry past with all the speed they could command. 

Centuries passed away; the level of the lake had 
sunk many feet; the last scions of the 0-kak-oni-tas and 
the Gra-sop-o-itas had mouldered many years in the 
burying-grounds of their sires, and a new race had 
usurped their old hunting grounds. Still no one had 
ever entered the haunted cave. 

One day, late in the autumn of 1849, a company of 
emigrants on their way to California, were passing, 
toward evening, the mouth of the cavern, and hearing 
a strange, low, mournful sigh, seeming to issue thence, 
theylanded their canoe and resolved to solve the mystery. 
Ligliting some pitch-pine torches, they proceeded 
cautiously to explore the cavern. For a long time they 



Legends of Lake Bigler. i6 



J 



-could discern nothing. At length, in the furthest cor- 
ner of the gloomy recess, they found two human skele- 
tons, with their bony arms entwined, and their fleshless 
skulls resting upon each other's bosoms. The lovers 
are dead, but the old cave still echoes with their dying 
sobs. 



II. DICK BARTER S YARN J OR, THE LAST OF THE MERMAIDS. 

Well, Dick began, you see I am an old salt, having 
^sailed the seas for more than forty-nine years, and 
being entirely unaccustomed to living upon the land. 
By some accident or other, I found myself, in the 
winter of 1849, cook for a party of miners who were 
sluicing high up the North Fork of the American. We 
had a hard time all winter, and when spring opened, it 
was agreed that I and a comrade named Liehard should 
cross the summit and spend a week fishing at the lake. 
We took along an old Washoe Indian, who spoke Span- 
ish, as a guide. This old man had formerly lived on 
the north margin of the lake, near where Tahoe City is 
now situated, and was perfectly familiar with all the 
most noted fishing grounds and chief points of interest 
thronghout its entire circuit. 

We had hardly got started before he commenced 
telling us of a remarkable struggle, which he declared 
had been going on for many hundred years between a 
border tribe of Indians and the inhabitants of the lake, 
whom he designated as Water-men, or ^' hombres delas 
aguas." On asking if he really meant to say that human 
beings lived and breathed like fish in Lake Bigler, he 
declared without any hesitation that such was the fact; 
that he had often seen them; and went on to describe 
a terrific combat he witnessed a great many years ago, 



164 Caxton s Book. 

between a Pol-i-wog chief aud a man of the loater. On 
my expressing some doubt as to the veracity of tlie 
statement, he proffered to show us the very spot where 
it occurred; aud at the same time expressed a belief 
that by manufacturing a whistle from the bark of the= 
mountain chinquapin, and blowing it as the Pol-i-wogs- 
did, we might entice some of their old enemies from 
the depths of the lake. My curiosity now being raised 
tip-toe, I proceeded to interrogate Juan more closely, 
and in answer I succeeded in obtaining the following 
curious particulars : 

The tribe of border Indians called the Pol-i-wogs. 
were a sort of amphibious race, and a hybrid between 
the Pi-Utes and the mermaids of the lake. They were 
of a much lighter color than their progenitors, and were 
distinguished by a great many peculiar characteristics. 
Exceedingly few in number, and quarrelsome in the 
extreme, they resented every intrusion upon the waters 
of the lake as a personal affront, and made perpetual 
war upon neighboring tribes. Hence, as Juan remarked, 
they soon became extinct after the invasion of the 
Washoes. The last of them disappeared about twenty- 
five years ago. The most noted of their peculiarities, 
were the following: 

First. Their heads were broad and extremely flat; 
the eyes protuberant, and the ears scarcely perceptible 
— being a small opening closed by a movable valve 
shaped like the scale of a salmon. Their mouths were 
very large, extending entirely across the cheeks, and 
bounded by a hard rim of bone, instead of the common 
lip. In appearance, therefore, the head did not look 
unlike an immense catfish head, except there were no 
fins about the jaws, and no feelers, as we call them. 

Second. Their necks were short, stout, and chubby. 



Legends of Lake Bigler, I65 

and tliey possessed the power of inflating them at will, 
and thus distending them to two or three times their 
ordinary size. 

Third. Their bodies were long, round, and flexible. 
When wet, they glistened in the sun like the back of an 
eel, and seemed to possess much greater buoyancy than 
those of common men. But the greatest wonder of all 
was a kind of loose membrane, that extended from be- 
neath their shoulders all the way down their sides, and 
connected itself with the upper portion of their thighs. 
This loose skin resembled the wings of the common house 
bat, and when spread out, as it always did in the water, 
looked like the membrane lining of the legs and fore 
feet of the chipmunk. 

Fourth. The hands and feet were distinguished for 
much greater length of toe and finger; and their extrem- 
ities grew together like the toes of a duck, forming a 
complete web betwixt all the fingers and toes. 

The Pol-i-wogs lived chiefly upon fish and oysters, of 
which there was once a great abundance in the lake. 
They were likewise cannibals, and ate their enemies 
without stint or compunction. A young Washoe girl 
was considered a feast, but a lake maiden was the ne 
plus ultra of luxuries. The Washoes reciprocated the 
•compliment, and fattened upon the blubber of the Pol- 
i-wogs. It is true that they v/ere extremely difiicult to 
capture, for, when hotly pursued, they plunged into the 
lake, and by expert swimming and extraordinary diving, 
they generally managed to effect their escape. 

Juan having exhausted his budget concerning the 
Pol-i-wogs, I requested him to give us as minute a de- 
scription of the Lake Mermaids. This he declined for 
the present to do, alleging as an excuse that we would 
first attempt to capture, or at least to see one for our- 



1 66 Cax ton's Book. 

selves, and if our liuut was unsuccessful, lie would tlien 
gratify our curiosity. 

It was some days before we came in sight of this 
magnificent sheet of water. Finally, however, after 
many perilous adventures in descending the Sierras, we 
reached the margin of the lake. Our first care was to 
procure trout enough to last until we got ready to return. 
That was an easy matter, for in those days the lake was 
far more plentifully supplied than at present. We caught 
many thousands at a place where a small brook came 
down from the mountains, and formed a pool not a great 
distance from its entrance into the lake, and this pool 
was alive with them. It occupied us but three days to 
catch, clean, and sun-dry as many as our single mule 
could carry, and having still nearly a week to spare we 
determined to start off in pursuit of the mermaids. 

Our guide faithfully conducted us to the spot where 
he beheld the conflict between the last of the Pol-i- 
wogs and one of the water-men. As stated above, it is 
nearly on the spot where Talioe City now stands. The 
battle was a fierce one, as the combatants were equally 
matched in strength and endurance, and was finally 
terminated only by the interposition of a small party of 
Washoes, our own guide being of the number. The 
struggle was chiefly in the water, the Pol-i-wog being 
better able to swim than the mermaid was to walk. Still, 
as occasion required, a round or two took place on the 
gravelly beach. Never did old Spain and England 
engage in fiercer conflict for the dominion of the seas, 
than now occurred between Pol-i-wog and Merman for 
the mastery of the lake. Each fought, as the Roman 
fought, for Empire. The Pol-i-wog, like the last of 
the Mohicans, had seen his tribe melt away, until he 
stood, like some solitary column at Persepolis, the sole 



Legends of Lake Bigler. 167 

monnment of a once gorgeous temple. The water chief- 
tain also felt that upon his arm, or rather tail, every- 
thing that made life desirable was staked. Above all, 
the trident of his native sea was involved. 

The weapons of the Pol-i-wog were his teeth and his 
liind legs. Those of the Merman were all concentrated 
in the tlop of his scaly tail. With the energy of a dying 
alligator, he would encircle, with one tremendous efibrt, 
the bruised body of the Pol-i-wog, and floor him beau- 
tifull}^ on the beach. Recovering almost instantly, the 
Pol-i-wog would seize the Merman by the long black 
hair, kick him in the region of the stomach, and grap- 
ple his windpipe between his bony jaws, as the mastiff 
does the infuriated bull. 

Finally, after a great many unsuccessful attempts to 
drag the Pol-i-wog into deep water, the mermaid was 
seized b}^ her long locks and suddenly jerked out upon 
the beach in a very battered condition. At this moment, 
the Washoes with a yell rushed toward the combatants, 
but the Pol-i-wog seeing death before him upon Avater 
and land equallj^ preferred the embraces of the water 
nymphs to the stomachs of the landsmen, and rolling 
over rapidly was soon borne oft'into unfathomable depths 
by the triumphant Merman. 

Such was the story of Juan. It resembled the condi- 
tion of the ancient Britons, who, being crowded by the 
Romans from the sea, and attacked by the Picts from 
the interior, lamented their fate as the most unfortunate 
of men. "The Romans," they said, "drive us into the 
land; there we are met by the Picts, who in turn drive 
us into the sea. We must perish in either event. Those 
whom enemies spare, the waves devour." 

Our first step was to prepare a chinquapin whistle. 
The flute was easily manufactured by Juan himself, 



1 68 Caxtoji s Book. 

tliuswise : He cut a twig about eighteen inches in length, 
and not more than half an inch in diameter, and peeling 
the bark from the ends an inch or so, proceeded to rub 
the bark rapidly with a dry stick peeled perfectly 
smooth. In a short time the sap in the twig com- 
menced to exude from both ends. Then placing the 
large end between his teeth he pulled suddenly, and the 
bark slipped off with a crack in it. Then cutting a small 
hole in the form of a parallelogram, near the upper end, 
he adjusted a stopper with flattened surface so as to fit 
exactly the opening. Cutting off the end of the stopple 
even with the bark and filling the lower opening nearly 
full of clay, he declared the work was done. As a proof 
of this, he blew into the hollow tube, and a low, musi- 
cal sound was emitted, very flute-like and silvery. When 
blown harshly, it could be heard at a great distance, and 
filled the air with melodious echoes. 

Thus equipped, we set out upon our search. The 
first two days were spent unsuccessfully. On the third 
we found ourselves near what is now called Agate Beach. 
At this place a small cove indents the laud, which sweeps 
round in the form of a semi-circle. The shore is lit- 
erally packed with agates and crystals. We dug some 
more than two feet deep in several places, but still 
could find no bottom to the glittering floor. They are 
of all colors, but the prevailing hues are red and yellow. 
Here Juan paused, and lifting his whistle to his lips, he 
performed a multitude of soft, gentle airs, which floated 
across the calm waves like a lover's serenade breathes 
o'er the breast of sleeping beauty. It all seemed in 
vain. We had now entirely circumnavigated the lake, 
and were on the eve of despairing utterly, when sud- 
denly we beheld the surface of the lake, nearly a quar- 
ter of a mile from the shore, disturbed violently, as if 



Legends of Lake Bigler. 169 

some giant whale were floundering with a harpoon in its 
side. In a moment more the head and neck of one of 
-those tremendous serpents that of late years have in- 
fested the lake, were uplifted some ten or fifteen feet 
above the surface. Almost at the same instant we be- 
held the head, face and hair, as of a human being, 
emerge quickly from the water, and look back toward 
the pursuing foe. The truth flashed upon us instan- 
taneously. Here was a mermaid pursued by a serpent. 
On they came, seemingly regardless of our presence, 
-and had approached to within twenty yards of the spot 
where we stood, when suddenly both came to a dead 
halt. Juan had never ceased for a moment to blow his 
tuneful flute, and it now became apparent that the notes 
had struck their hearing at the same time. To say that 
they were charmed would but half express their ecstatic 
condition. They were absolutely entranced. 

The huge old serpent lolled along the waters for a 
Jnindred feet or so, and never so much as shook the 
spray from his hide. He looked like Milton's portrait 
^f Satan, stretched out upon the burning marl of hell. 
In perfect contrast with the sea monster, the beautiful 
mermaiden lifted her pallid face above the water, drip- 
ping with the crystal tears of the lake, and gathering 
her long raven locks, that floated like the train of a 
meteor down her back, she carelessly flung them across 
her swelling bosom, as if to reproach us for gazing upon 
her beauteous form. But there my eyes were fastened! 
If she were entranced by the music, I was not less so 
with her beauty. Presently the roseate hues of a dying 
dolphin played athwart her brow and cheeks, and ere 
long a gentle sigh, as if stolen from the trembling 
chords of an Eolian harp, issued from her coral lips. 
Again and again it broke forth, until it beat in full 
.symphony with the cadences of Juan's rustic flute. 



I70 



Caxtoii s Book. 



My attention was at this moment aroused by the sus- 
picious clicking of my comrade's rifle. Turning around 
suddenly, I beheld Liehard, with his piece leveled at 
the unconscious mermaid. 

"Great God!" I exclaimed! "Liehard, would yoit 
commit murder ?" But the warning came too late, for 
instantaneously the quick report of his rifle and the ter- 
rific shriek of the mermaid broke the noontide stillness; 
and, rearing her bleeding form almost entirely out of 
the water, she plunged headlong forwards, a corpse. 
Beholding his prey, powerless within his grasp, the 
serpent splashed toward her, and, ere I could cock my^ 
rifle, he had seized her unresisting body, and sank with 
it into the mysterious caverns of the lake. At this in- 
stant, I gave a loud outcry, as if in pain. On opening 
my eyes, my wife was bending over me, the midday 
sun was shining in my face, Dick Barter was spinning: 
some confounded yarn about the Bay of Biscay and the 
rum trade of Jamaica, and the sloop Editli Beaiy was. 
still riding at anchor off the wild glen, and gazing tran- 
quilly at her ugly image in the crystal mirror of Lake 
Bigler. 




ROSENTHAL'S ELAINE. 
~r STOOD and gazed far out into the waste; 

No dip of oar broke on the listening- ear; 
But the quick riiDpling of the inward flood 
Gave warning of approaching argosy. 

Adown the west, the day's last fleeting gleam 

Faded and died, and left the world in gloom, 

Hope hung no star up in the murky east 

To cheer the soul, or guide the pilgrim's way. 

Black frown'd the heavens, and black the answerin< 

earth 
Keflected from her watery wastes the night. 
Sudden, a jDlash! then silence. Once again 
The dripping oar dipped in its silver blade. 
Parting the waves, as smiles part beauty's lips. 
Betwixt me and the curtain of the cloud. 
Close down by the horizon's verge, there crept 
From out the darkness, barge and crew and freight^ 
Sailless and voiceless, all ! 

Ah! Then I knew 
I stood upon the brink of Time. I saw 
Before me Death's swift river sweep along 
And bear its burden to the grave. 

"Elaine!" 
One seamew screamed, in solitary woe; 
"Elaine! Elaine!" stole back the echo, weird 
And musical, from off the further shore. 
Then burst a chorus wild, " Elaine! Elaine! " 
And gazing upward through the twilight haze. 



1/2 Caxtoii s Book. 

Mine eyes beheld King Arthur's phantom Court. 

There stood the sturdy monarch: he who drove 

The hordes of Hengist from old Albion's strand; 

And, leaning on his stalwart arm, his queen, 

The fair, the false, but trusted Guinevere! 

And there, like the statue of a demi-god. 

In marble wrought by some old Grecian hand, 

With eyes downcast, towered Lancelot of the Lake. 

Lavaine and Torre, the heirs of Astolat, 

And he, the sorrowing Sire of the Dead, 

Together with a throng of valiant knights 

And ladies fair, were gathered as of yore. 

At the Round Table of bold Arthur's Court. 

There, too, was Tristram, leaning on his lance, 

"Whose eyes alone of all that weeping host 

Swam not in tears; but indignation burned 

Red in their sockets, like volcanic fires, 

And from their blazing depths a Fury shot 

Her hissing arrows at the guilty pair. 

Then Lancelot, advancing to the front, 

With glance transfixed upon the canvas true 

That sheds immortal fame on Rosenthal, 

Thus chanted forth his Requiem for the Dead: 

Fresh as the water in the fountain, 

Fair as the lily by its side. 
Pure as the snow upon the mountain, 
Is the angel 
Elaine ! 
My spirit bride ! 

Day after day she grew fairer, 

As she pined away in sorrow, at my side; 
No pearl in the ocean could be rarer 
Than the angel 

Elaine! 
My spirit bride ! 



RosenthaV s Elaine. 17^ 

The hours passed away all unheeded, 

For love hath no landmarks in its tide. 
No child of misfortune ever pleaded 
In vain 
To Elaine! 
My spirit bride! 

Here, where sad Tamesis is rolling 

The wave of its sorrow-laden tide. 
Forever on the air is heard tolling 
The refrain 
Of Elaine! 
My spirit bride! 




XI. 

THE TELESCOPIC EYE. 

A LEAF FROM A EEPORTEr's NOTE-BOOK. 

nrpOE the past five or six weeks, rumors of a strange 
-L abnormal development of the powers of vision of 
n youth named Johnny Palmer, whose parents reside at 
South San Francisco, have been whispered around in 
scientific circles in the city, and one or two short notices 
Lave appeared in the columns of some of our contem- 
poraries relative to the prodigious lusus natarce, as the 
scientists call it. 

Owing to the action taken by the California College 
•of Sciences, whose members comprise some of our most 
scientific citizens, the aifair has assumed such import- 
ance as to call for a careful and exhaustive investigation. 

Being detailed to investigate the flying stories, with 
regard to the powers of vision claimed for a lad named 
John or "Johnny" Palmer, as his parents call him, we 
first of all ventured to send in our card to Professor 
Oibbins, the President of the California College of 
Sciences. It is always best to call at the fountain-head 
for useful information, a habit which our two hundred 
thousand readers on this coast can never fail to see and 
appreciate. An estimable gentleman of the African 
persuasion, to whom we handed our "pasteboard," soon 
returned witli the polite message, "Yes, sir; in. Please 
walk up." And so we followed our conductor through 
-several passages almost as dark as the face of the 



The Telescopic Eye. 175 

-cicerone, and in a few moments found ourselves in the 
presence of, perhaps, the busiest man in the city of San 
Praucisco. 

Without any flourish of trumpets, the Professor in- 
quired our object in seeking him and the information we 
desired. "Ah," said he, "that is a long story. I have 
no time to go into particulars just now. I am comput- 
ing the final sheet of Professor Davidson's report of the 
Transit of Venus, last year, at Yokohama and Loo-Choo. 
It must be ready before May, and it requires six mouths' 
work to do it correctly." 

"But," I rejoined, "can't you tell me where the lad 
is to be found ?" 

"And if I did, they will not let you see him." 

" Let me alone for that," said I, smiling; "a reporter, 
like love, finds his way where wolves would fear to 
tread." 

" Really, my dear sir," quickly responded the Doctor, 
*'I have no time to chat this morning. Our special 
committee submitted its report yesterday, which is on 
jfile in that book-case; and if you will promise not to 
publish it until after it has been read in open session 
of the College, you may take it to your sanctum, run 
it over, and clip from it enough to satisfy the public 
for the present." 

Saying this, he rose from his seat, opened the case, 
-took from a pigeon-hole a voluminous written document 
tied up with red tape, and handed it to me, adding, "Be 
'careful!" Seating himself without another word, he 
turned his back on me, and I sallied forth into the 
street. 

Beaching the office, I scrutinized the writing on the 
envelope, and found it as follows: "Eeportof Special 
Oommittee — Boy Palmer — Vision — Laws of Light — 



176 Caxton s Book. 

Filed February 10, 1876— Stittmore, Sec." Opening the 
document, I saw at once that it was a full, accurate, and, 
up to the present time, complete account of the phe- 
nomenal case I was after, and regretted the promise 
made not to publish the entire report until read in open 
session of the College. Therefore, I shall be compelled 
to give the substance of the report in my own words, 
only giving verhaiim now and then a few scientific 
phrases which are not fully intelligible to me, or sus- 
ceptible of circumlocution in common language. 

The report is signed by Doctors Bryant, Gadbury and 
Golson, three of our ablest medical men, and approved 
by Professor Smyth, the oculist. So far, therefore, as 
authenticity and scientific accuracy are concerned, our 
readers may rely implicitly upon the absolute correct- 
ness of every fact stated and conclusion reached. 

The first paragraph of the report gives the name of 
the child, "John Palmer, age, nine years, and place of 
residence. South San Francisco, Gulp Hill, near Cath- 
olic Orphan Asylum ," and then plunges at once into m 
medias res. 

It appears that the period through which the investi- 
gation ran was only fifteen days; but it seems to have 
been so thorough, by the use of the ophthalmoscope and 
other modern appliances and tests, that no regrets 
ought to be indulged as to the brevity of the time em- 
ployed in experiments. Besides, we have superadded 
a short and minute account of our own, verifying some 
of the most curious facts reported, with several tests 
proposed by ourselves and not included in the state- 
ment of the scientific committee. 

To begin, then, with the beginning of the inquiries by 
the committee. They were conducted into a small back 
room, darkened by old blankets hung up at the win- 



The Telescopic Eye, 177 

dow, for the purpose of the total exclusion of daylight; 
an absurd remedy for blindness, recommended by a 
noted quack whose name adorns the extra fly-leaf of the 
San Francisco Truth Teller. The lad was reclining upon 
an old settee, ill-clad and almost idiotic in expression. 
As the committee soon ascertained, his mother only was 
at home, the father being absent at his customary oc- 
cupation — that of switch-tender on the San Jose Rail- 
road. She notified her son of the presence of strangers 
and he rose and walked with a firm step toward where 
the gentlemen stood, at the entrance of the room. He 
shook them all by the hand and bade them good morn- 
ing. In reply to questions rapidly put and answered 
by his mother, the following account of the infancy of 
the boy and the accidental discovery of his extraordi- 
nary powers of vision was given : 

He was born in the house where the committee found 
him, nine years ago the 15tli of last January. Nothing 
of an unusual character occurred until his second year, 
when it was announced by a neighbor that the boy was 
completely blind, his parents never having been sus- 
picious of the fact before that time, although the mother 
declared that for some months anterior to the discovery 
she had noticed some acts of the child that seemed to 
indicate mental imbecility rather than blindness. From 
this time forward until a few months ago nothing hap- 
pened to vary the boy's existence except a new remedy 
now and then prescribed by neighbors for the supposed 
malady. He Avas mostly confined to a darkened cham- 
ber, and was never trusted alone out of doors. He 
grew familiar, by touch and sound, with the forms of 
most objects about him, and could form very accurate 
guesses of the color and texture of them all. His con- 
versational powers did not seem greatly impaired, and 
12 



178 Caxtoii s Book. 

lie readily acquired mucli useful knowledge from list- 
ening attentively to everything that was said in bis pres- 
ence. He was quite a musician, and touched the har- 
monicon, banjo and accordeon with skill and feeling. 
He was unusually sensitive to the presence of light, 
though incapable of seeing any object with any degree 
of distinctness; and hence the attempt to exclude light 
as the greatest enemy to the recovery of vision. It was 
very strange that up to the time of the examination of 
the committee, no scientific examination of the boy's 
eye had been made by a competent oculist, the parents 
contenting themselves with the chance opinions of visi- 
tors or the cheap nostrums of quacks. It is perhaps 
fortunate for science that this was the case, as a cure 
for the eye might have been an extinction of its abnormal 
power. 

On the evening of the 12th of December last (1875), 
the position of the child's bed was temporarily changed 
to make room for a visitor. The bed was placed against 
the wall of the room, fronting directly east, with the 
window opening at the side of the bed next to the head. 
The boy was sent to bed about seven o'clock, and the 
parents and their visitor were seated in the front room, 
spending the evening in social intercourse. The moon 
rose full and cloudless about half-past seven o'clock, 
and shone full in the face of the sleeping boy. 

Something aroused him from slumber, and when he 
opened his eyes the first object they encountered was 
the round disk of her orb. By some oversight the cur- 
tain had been removed from the windoAV, and probably 
for the first time in his life he beheld the lustrous queen 
of night swimming in resplendent radiance, and bath- 
ing hill and bay in effulgent glory. Uttering a cry, 
roually of terror and delight, he sprang up in bed and 



The Telescopic Eye. 179 

sat there like a statue, with eyes aglare, mouth open, 
finger pointed, and astonishment depicted on every 
feature. His sudden, sharp scream brought his mother 
to his side, who tried for some moments in vain to dis- 
tract his gaze from the object before him. Failing even 
to attract notice, she called in her husband and friend, 
and together they besought the boy to lie down and go 
to sleep, but to no avail. Believing him to be ill and in 
convulsions, they soon seized him, and were on the 
point of immersing him in a hot bath, when, with a 
sudden spring, he escaped from their grasp and ran out 
the front door. Again he fixed his unwinking eyes upon 
the moon, and remained speechless for several seconds. 
At length, having seemingly satisfied his present curi- 
osity, he turned on his mother, who stood wringing her 
hands in the doorway and moaning piteously, and ex- 
claimed, "I can see the moon yonder, and it is so beau- 
tiful that I am going there to-morrow morning, as soon 
as I get up." 

"How big does it look?" said his mother. 

"So big," he replied, "that I cannot see it all at one 
glance — as big as all out of doors." 

"How far off from you does it seem to be?" 

"About half a car's distance," he quickly rejoined. 

It may be here remarked that the boy's idea of dis- 
tance had been measured all his life by the distance 
from his home to the street-car station at the foot of the 
hill. This was about two hundred yards, so that the 
reply indicated that the moon appeared to be only one 
hundred yards from the spectator. The boy then pro- 
ceeded of his own accord to give a very minute descrip- 
tion of the appearance of objects which he beheld, cor- 
responding, of course, to his poverty of words with 
which to clothe his ideas. 



i8o Caxtofi s Book. 

His account of things bebelcl by liim was so curious, 
wonderful and apparently accurate, that the little group 
about him passed rapidly from a conviction of his in- 
sanity to a belief no less absurd — that he had become, 
in the cant lingo of the day, a seeing, or "clairvoyant'* 
medium. Such was the final conclusion to which his 
parents had arrived at the time of the visit of the scien- 
tific committee. He had been classed with that credu- 
lous school known to this century as spiritualists, and 
had been visited solely by persons of that ilk heretofore. 

The committee having fully examined the boy, and a 
number of independent witnesses, as to the facts, soon 
set about a scientific investigation of the true causes of 
of the phenomenon. The first step, of course, was to 
examine the lad's eye with the modern ophthalmoscope, 
an invention of Professor Helmholtz, of Heidelberg, a 
few years ago, by means of which the depths of this 
organ can be explored, and the smallest variations from 
a healthy or normal condition instantaneously detected. 

The mode of using the instrument is as follows : The 
room is made perfectly dark; a brilliant light is then 
placed near the head of the patient, and the rays are 
reflected by a series of small mirrors into his eye, as if 
they came from the eye of the observer; then, by look- 
ing through the central aperture of the instrument, the 
oculist can examine the illuminated interior of the eye- 
ball, and perceive every detail of structure, healthy or 
morbid, as accurately and clearly as we can see any part 
of the exterior of the body. No discomfort arises to 
the organ examined, and all its hidden mysteries can be 
studied and understood as clearly as those of any other 
organ of the body. 

This course was taken with John Palmer, and the 
true secret of his mysterious power of vision detected 
in an instant. 



The Telescopic Eye. i8i 

Ou applying the oplitlialmoscope, the committee ascer- 
tained iu a moment that the boy's ej-e was abnormally 
shaped. A natural, perfect eye is perfectly round. But 
the eye examined was exceedingly flat, very thin, with 
large iris, flat lens, immense petira, and wonderfully 
dilated pupil. The effect of the shape was at once 
apparent. It was utterly impossible to see any object 
with distinctness at any distance short of many thou- 
sands of miles. Had the eye been elongated inward, or 
shaped like an egg — to as great an extent, the boy 
would have been efiectually blind, for no combination 
of lens power could have placed the image of the object 
beyond the coat of the retina. In other words, there 
are two common imperfections of the human organ of 
sight; one called myopia, or "near-sightedness;" the 
'presbyopia, or "far-sightedness." 

"The axis being too long," says the report, "in 
myopic eyes, parallel rays, such as proceed from distant 
objects, are brought to a focus at a point so far in front 
of the retina, that only confused images are formed 
upon it. Such a malformation, constituting an excess of 
refractive power, can only be neutralized by concave 
glasses, which give such a direction to rays entering 
the eye as will allow of their being brought to a focus 
at a proper point for distant perception." 

"Presbj^opia is the reverse of all this. The antero- 
posterior axis of such eyes being too short, owing to 
the flat plate-like shape of the ball, their refractive 
power is not sufficient to bring even parallel rays to a 
focus upon the retina, but is adapted for convergent 
rays only. Convex glasses, in a great measure, com- 
pensate for this quality by rendering parallel rays con- 
vergent; and such glasses, in ordinary cases, bring the 
rays to a focus at a convenient distance from the glass, 



I«2 



Caxto7i s Book, 



corresponding to its degree of curvature. But in the case 
under examination, no glass or combination of glasses 
could be invented sufficiently concave to remedy the 
malformation. By a mathematical problem of easy solu- 
tion, it was computed that the nearest distance from the 
unaided eye of the patient at which a distinct image 
could be formed upon the retina, was two hundred and 
forty thousand miles, a fraction short of the mean dis- 
tance of the moon from the earth; and hence it became 
perfectly clear that the boy could see with minute 
distinctness whatever was transpiring on the surface of 
the moon. 

Such being the undeniable truth as demonstrated by 
science, the declaration of the lad assumed a far higher 
value than the mere dicta of spiritualists, or the mad 
ravings of a monomaniac; and the committee at once 
set to work to glean all the astronomical knowledge 
they could by frequent and prolonged night interviews 
with the boy. 

It was on the night of January 9, 1876, that the first 
satisfactory experiment was tried, testing beyond all 
cavil or doubt the powers of the subject's eye. It was 
full moon, and that luminary rose clear and dazzlingly 
bright. The committee were on hand at an early hour, 
and the boy was in fine condition and exuberant spirits. 
The interview was secret, and none but the members 
of the committee and the parents of the child were 
present. Of course the first proposition to be settled 
was that of the inhabitability of that sphere. This the 
boy had frequently declared was the case, and he had 
on several previous occasions described minutely the 
form, size and means of locomotion of the Lunarians. 
On this occasion he repeated in almost the same lan- 
guage, what he had before related to his parents and 



The Telescopic Eye. 183 

friends, but was more minute, owing to the greater 
transparency of the atmosphere and the experience in 
expression ah-eady acquired. 

The Lunarians are not formed at all like ourselves. 
They are less in height, and altogether of a different 
appearance. When fully grown, they resemble some- 
what a chariot wheel, with four spokes, converging at 
the center or axle. They have four eyes in the head, 
which is the axle, so to speak, and all the limbs branch 
out directly from the center, like some sea-forms known 
as "Radiates." They move by turning rapidly like a 
wheel, and travel as fast as a bird through the air. 
The children are undeveloped in form, and are perfectly 
round, like a pumpkin or orange. As they grow older, 
they seem to drop or absorb the rotundity of the whole 
body, and finally assume the appearance of a chariot 
wheel. 

They are of different colors, or nationalties — bright 
red, orange and blue being the predominant hues. The 
reds are in a large majority. They do no work, but 
sleep every four or five hours. They have no houses, 
and need none. They have no clothing, and do not 
require it. There being no night on the side of the 
moon fronting the sun, and no day on the opposite side, 
all the inhabitants, apparently at a given signal of some 
kind, form into vast armies, and flock in myriads to the 
sleeping grounds on the shadow-side of the planet. 
They do not appear to go very far over the dark rim, 
for they reappear in immense platoons in a few hours, 
and soon spread themselves over the illuminated sur- 
face. They sleep and wake about six times in one 
ordinary day of twenty-four hours. Their occupations 
cannot be discerned; they must be totally different from 
anything upon the earth. 



184 Caxtoii s Book. 

The surface of the moon is all hill and hollow. There 
are but few level spots, nor is there any water visible. 
The atmosphere is almost as refined and light as hydro- 
gen gas. There is no fire visible, nor are there any vol- 
canoes. Most of the time of the inhabitants seems to be 
spent in playing games of locomotion, spreading them- 
selves into squares, circles, triangles, and other mathe- 
matical figures. They move always in vast crowds. No 
one or two are ever seen separated from the main bodies. 
The children also flock in herds, and seem to be all of 
one family. Individualism is unknown. They seem to 
spawn like herring or shad, or to be propagated like 
bees, from the queen, in myriads. Motion is their 
normal condition. The moment after a mathematical 
figure is formed, it is dissolved, and fresh combinations 
take place, like the atoms in a kaleidoscope. No other 
species of animal, bird, or being exist upon the illumi- 
nated face of the moon. 

The shrubbery and vegetation of the moon is all 
metallic. Vegetable life nowhere exists; but the forms 
of some of the shrubs and trees are exceedingly beauti- 
ful. The highest trees do not exceed twenty-five feet, 
and they appear to have all acquired their full growth. 
The ground is strewn with flowers, but they are all 
formed of metals — gold, silver, copper, and tin predom- 
inating. But there is a new kind of metal seen every- 
where on tree, shrub and flower, nowhere known on the 
earth. It is of a bright vermilion color, and is semi- 
transparent. The mountains are all of bare and burnt 
granite, and appear to have been melted with fire. The 
committee called the attention of the boy to the bright 
" sea of glass" lately observed near the northern rim of 
the moon, and inquired of what it is composed. He 
examined it carefully, and gave such a minute descrip- 



The Telescopic Eye. 185 

tion of it that it became apparent at once to the com- 
mittee that it was pure mercury or quicksilver. Tlie 
reason why it has but very recently shown itself to 
astronomers is thus accounted for: it appears close up 
to the line of demarcation separating the light and 
shadow upon the moon's disk; and on closer inspection 
a distinct cataract of the fluid — in short, a metallic 
Niagara, was clearly seen falling from the night side to 
the day side of the luminary. It has already filled up 
a vast plain — one of the four that exist on the moon's 
surface — and appears to be still emptying itself with 
very great rapidity and volume. It covers an area of 
five by seven hundred miles in extent, and may possibly 
•deluge one half the entire surface of the moon. It does 
not seem to occasion much apprehension to the inhabit- 
ants, as they were seen skating, so to speak, in platoons 
and battalions, over and across it. In fact, it presents 
the appearance of an immense park, to which the Lu- 
narians flock, and disjDort themselves with great gusto 
upon its polished face. One of the most beautiful 
sights yet seen by the lad was the formation of a new 
flgure, which he drew upon the sand with his finger. 

The central heart was of crimson-colored natives; 
the one to the right of pale orange, and the left of 
bright blue. It was ten seconds in forming, and five 
seconds in dispersing. The number engaged in the 
evolution could not be less than half a million. 

Thus has been solved one of the great astronomical 
questions of the century. 

The next evening the committee assembled earlier, 
so as to get a view of the planet Yeuus before the moon 
lose. It was the first time that the lad's attention had 
been drawn to any of the j)lanets, and he evinced the 
liveliest joy Avhen he first beheld the cloudless disk of 



1 86 Caxt oil's Book. 

that resplendent world. It may here be stated that his 
power of vision, in looking at the fixed stars, was na 
greater or less than that of an ordinary eye. They 
appeared only as points of light, too far removed into 
the infinite beyond to afford any information concern- 
ing their properties. But the committee were doomed 
to a greater disappointment when they inquired of the 
boy what he beheld on the surface of Venus. He re- 
plied, "Nothing clearly; all is confused and watery; I 
see nothing with distinctness." The solution of the 
difficulty was easily apprehended, and at once surmised.. 
The focus of the eye was fixed by nature at 240,00(> 
miles, and the least distance of Venus from the earth 
being 24,293,000 miles, it was, of course, impossible to- 
observe that planet's surface with distinctness. Still 
she appeared greatly enlarged, covering about one 
hundredth part of the heavens, and blazing with unim- 
aginable splendor. 

Experiments upon Jupiter and Mars were equally 
futile, and the committee half sorrowfully turned again 
to the inspection of the moon. 

The report then proceeds at great length to give full 
descriptions of the most noted geographical peculiari- 
ties of the lunar surface, and corrects many errors fallen 
into by Herschel, Leverrier and Proctor. Professor 
Secchi informs us that the surface of the moon is much 
better known to astronomers than the surface of tho 
earth is to geographers; for there are two zones on the 
globe within the Arctic and Antarctic circles, that wo 
can never examine. But every nook and cranny of the 
illuminated face of the moon has been fully delineated^ 
examined and named, so that no object greater than 
sixty feet square exists but has been seen and photo- 
graphed by means of Lord Piosse's telescope and De la. 



The Telescopic Eye. 187 

Buis' camera and apparatus. As the entire report will 
be ordered published at the next weekly meeting of the 
College, we refrain from further extracts, but now pro- 
ceed to narrate the results of our own interviews with 
the boy. 

It was on the evening of the 17th of February, 1876,. 
that we ventured with rather a misgiving heart to ap- 
proach Culp Hill, and the humble residence of a child 
destined, before the year is out, to become the most 
celebrated of living beings. We armed ourselves with 
a pound of sugar candy for the boy, some mi(sli)i-de- 
laine as a present to the mother, and a box of cigars for 
the father. We also took with us a very large -sized 
opera-glass, furnished for the purpose by M. Muller. 
At first we encountered a positive refusal; then, on ex- 
hibiting the cigars, a qualified negative ; and finally, 
when the muslin and candy were drawn on the enemy, 
we were somewhat coldly invited in and proffered a 
seat. The boy was pale and restless, and his eyes 
without bandage or glasses. We soon ingratiated our- 
self into the good opinion of the whole party, and 
henceforth encountered no difficulty in pursuing our 
investigations. The moon being nearly full, we first of 
all verified the tests by the committee. These were all 
perfectly satisfactory and reliable. Requesting, then, 
to stay until after midnight, for the purpose of inspect- 
ing Mars with the opera -glass, we spent the interval in. 
obtaining the history of the child, which we have given 
above. 

The planet Mars being at this time almost in dead 
opposition to the sun, and with the earth in conjunc- 
tion, is of course as near to the earth as he ever ap- 
proaches, the distance being thirty -five millions of 
miles. He rises toward midnight, and is in the con- 



1 88 Caxton s Book. 

stellation Virgo, wliere he may be seen to the greatest 
possible advantage, being in perigee. Mars is most 
like the earth of all the planetary bodies. He revolves 
on his axis in a little over twenty-four hours, and his 
surface is pleasantly variegated with land and water, 
pretty much like our own world — the land, however, 
being in slight excess. He is, therefore, the most in- 
teresting of all the heavenly bodies to the inhabitants 
of the earth. 

Having all things in readiness, we directed the glass 
to the planet. Alas, for all our calculations, the power 
was insufficient to clear away the obscurity resulting 
from imperfect vision and short focus. 

Swallowing the bitter disappointment, we hastily 
made arrangements for another interview, with a tele- 
scope, and bade the family good night. 

There is but one large telescope properly mounted in 
the city, and that is the property and pride of its accom- 
plished owner, J. P. Manrow, Esq. We at once pro- 
cured an interview with that gentleman, and it was 
agreed that on Saturday evening the boy should be 
conveyed to his residence, picturesquel}' situated on 
Kussian Hill, commanding a magnificent view of the 
Golden Gate and the ocean beyond. 

At the appointed hour the boy, his parents and my- 
self presented ourselves at the door of that hospitable 
mansion. We were cordially welcomed, and conducted 
without further parley into the lofty observatory on the 
top of the house. In due time the magnificent tube 
was presented at the planet, but it was discovered that 
the power it Avas set for was too low. It was then 
gauged for 240,000 diameters, being the full strength 
of the telescope, and the eye of the boy observer placed 
iit the eye-glass. One cry of joy, and unalloyed delight 



The Telescopic Eye, 



189 



told the story! Mars, and its mountains and seas, its 
rivers, vales, and estuaries, its polar snow -caps and 
grassy plains — its inhabitants, palaces, ships, villages 
and cities, were all revealed, as distinctly, clearly and 
certainly, as the eye of Kit Carson, from the summits 
of the Sierra Nevada range, beheld the stupendous- 
panorama of the Sacramento Yalley, and the snow-clad 
summits of Mount Hood and Shasta Butte. 




XII. 

THE EMERALD ISLE. 

C^HAOS was ended. From its ruins rolled 
-^ The central Sun, poised on his throne of gold; 
The cliangefnl Moon, that floods the hollow dome 
Of raven midnight with her silvery foam; 
Vast constellations swarming all around, 
In seas of azure, without line or bound, 
And this green globe, rock-ribbed and mountain-crown'd. 

The eye of God, before His hand had made 

Man in His image, this wide realm surveyed; 

O'er hill and valley, over stream and wood. 

He glanced triumiDhant, and pronounced it "good." 

But ere He formed old Adam and his bride, 

He called a shining seraph to His side. 

And pointing to our world, that gleamed afar. 

And twinkled on creation's verge, a star, 

Bade him float 'round this new and narrow span 

And bring report if all were ripe for Man. 

The angel spread his fluttering pinions fair. 

And circled thrice the circumambient air; 

Quick, then, as thought, he stood before the gate 

"Where cherubs burn, and minist'ring spirits wait. 

Nor long he stood, for Grod beheld his plume, 

Already tarnished by terrestrial gloom. 

And beck'ning kindly to the flurried aid, 

Said, " Speak your wish; if good, be it obeyed." 

The seraph raised his gem-encircled hand, 

Obeisance made, at heaven's august command, 

And thus rei)lied, in tones so bold and clear, 

That ancfels turned and lent a listening ear: 



The Emerald Isle. 191 

** Lord of all systems, be they near or far, 

'Thrice have I circled 'round you beauteous Star, 

I've seen its mountains rise, its rivers roll, 

Its oceans sweep majestic to eacli pole; 

Its floors in mighty continents expand, 

Or dwindle into specs of fairy-land; 

Its prairies spread, its forests stretch in pride. 

And all its valleys dazzle like a bride; 

Hymns have I heard in all its winds and streams. 

And beauty seen in all its rainbow gleams. 

But whilst the Land can boast of every gem 

That sparkles in each seraph's diadem; 

Whilst diamonds blaze 'neath dusk Golconda's skies, 

And rubies bleed where Alps and Andes rise; 

Whilst in Brazilian brooks the topaz shines. 

And opals burn in California mines; 

"Whilst in the vales of Araby the Blest 

The sapphire flames beside the amethyst: 

The pauper Ocean sobs forever more, 

XJngemm'd, unjeweled, on its wailing shore!" 

•*'What wouldst thou do?" responded heaven's great King. 

*' Add music to the song the breakers sing! " 

The strong-soul'd seraph cried, " I'd make yon sea 

Bival in tone heaven's sweetest minstrelsy; 

I'd plant within the ocean's bubbling tide 

An island gem, of every sea the pride! 

So bright in robes of ever- living green, 

In breath so sweet, in features so serene. 

Such crystal streams to course its valleys fair, 

Such healthful gales to jourify its air. 

Such fertile soil, such ever-verdant trees, 

Angels should name it ' Emerald of the Seas ! ' " 

The seraph paused, and downward cast his eyes, 
"Whilst heav'nly hosts stood throbbing with surprise. 



192 Caxton s Book. 

Again the Lord of all the realms above, 
Supreme in might, but infinite in love, 
"With no harsh accent in His tones replied: 
" Go, drop this Emerald in the envious tide!" 

Quick as the lightning cleaves the concave blue, 

The seraph seized the profi'er'd gem, and flew 

Until he reached the confines of the earth. 

Still struggling in the throes of turbid birth; 

And there, upon his self-sustaining wing. 

Sat poised, and heard our globe her matins sing; 

Beheld the sun traverse the arching sky, 

The sister Moon walk forth in majesty; 

Saw every constellation rise and roll 

Athwart the heaven, or circle round the pole. 

Nor did he move, until our spotted globe 

Had donned for him her morn and evening robe; 

Till on each land his critic eye was cast. 

And every ocean rose, and heav'd, and pass'd; 

Then, like some eagle pouncing on its prey. 

He downward sail'd, through bellowing clouds and spray^ 

To where he saw the billows bounding free, 

And dropped the gem within the stormy sea! 

And would'st thou know. Chief of St. Patrick's band, 
"Where fell this jewel from the. seraph's hand? 
What ocean caught the world-enriching prize ? 
O! Child of Moina, homeward cast your eyes! 
Lo ! in the midst of wat'ry deserts wide. 
Behold the Emerald bursting through the tide, 
And bearing on its ever vernal-sod 
The monogram of seraph, and of God! 

Its name, the sweetest human lips e'er sung, 
First trembled on an angel's fervid tongue; 
Then chimed iEolian on the evening air, 
Lisped by an infant, in its mother prayer; 



The Emerald Isle. 193 

Next roared in war, with battle's flag unfurl'd; 
Now, gemm'd with glory, gather' d through the world! 
What name! Perfidious Albion, blush with shame: 
It is thy sister's! Erin is the name! 

Once more the seraph stood before the throne 

Of dread Omnipotence, pensive and alone. 

" What hast thou done?" Heaven's Monarch sadly sigh'd. 

" I droj^ped the jeAvel in the flashing tide," 

The seraph said; but saw with vision keen 

A mightier angel stalk upon the scene. 

Whose voice like grating thunder smote his ear 

And taught his soul the mystery of fear. 

" Because thy heart with impious pride did swell. 

And dared make better what thy God made well; 

Because thy hand did fling profanely down 

On Earth a jewel wrenched from Heaven's bright crown, 

The Isle which thine own fingers did create 

Shall reap a blessing and a curse from fate! " 

THE CURSE. 

Far in the future, as the years roll on. 
And all the pagan ages shall have flown; 
When Christian virtues, flaming into light. 
Shall save the world from superstition's night; 
Erin, oppress'd, shall bite the tyrant's heel. 
And for a thousand years enslaved shall kneel; 
Her sons shall perish in the field and flood. 
Her daughters starve in city, wold, and wood; 
Her patriots, with their blood, the block shall stain, 
Her matrons fly behind the Western main; 
Harpies from Albion shall her strength consume. 
And thorns and thistles in her gardens bloom. 
But, curse of curses thine, O! fated land: 
Traitors shall thrive where statesmen ought to stand! 
13 



194 Caxtoii s Book. 

THE BLESSING. 

But past her heritage of woe and pain, 
A far more blest millennium sliall reign; 
Seedlings of heroes shall her exiles be, 
Where'er they find a home beyond the sea; 
Bright paragons of beauty and of truth, 
Her maidens all shall dazzle in their j^outh; 
And when age comes, to dim the flashing eye, 
Still gems of virtue shall they live, and die ! 
No braver race shall breathe beneath the sun 
Than thine, O! Erin, ere the goal be won. 

Wherever man shall battle for the right, 
(►There shall thy sons fall thickest in the fight; 
Wherever man shall perish to be free, 
There shall thy martyrs foremost be! 
And O! when thy redemption is at hand, 
Soldiers shall swell thy ranks from every land! 
Heroes shall flock in thousands to thy shore. 
And swear thj' soil is free foeevermoke ! 
Then shall thy harp be from the willow torn, 
And in yon glitt'ring galaxy be borne ! 
Then shall the Emerald change its verdant crest. 
And blaze a Star co-equal with the rest! 

The sentence pass'd, the doomsman felt surprise, 
For tears were streaming from the seraph's eyes. 

" Weep not for Erin," once again he spoke, 
" But for thyself, that did'st her doom provoke; 
I bear a message, seraph, unto thee. 
As unrelenting in its stern decree. 
For endless years it is thy fate to stand, 
The chosen guardian of the Shamrock: land. 
Three times, as ages wind their coils away, 
rncirnate on yon Island shalt thou stray. 



The Emerald Isle. 195 

*' First as a Saint, in majesty divine, 

The world shall know thee by this potent sign: 

From yonder soil, where pois'nous reptiles dwell. 

Thy voice shall snake and slimy toad expel. 

Next as a Martyr, pleading in her cause, 

Thy blood shall flow to build up Albion's laws. 

Last as a Prophet and a Bard combined, 

Kebellion's fires shall mould thy j^atriot mind. 

In that great day, when Briton's strength shall fail, 

And all her glories shiver on the gale; 

When winged chariots, rushing through the sky, 

Shall drop their faggots, blazing as they fly. 

Thy form shall tower, a hero 'midst the flames, 

And add one more to Erin's deathless names!" 

Exiles of Erin! gathered here in state. 
Such is the story of j^our country's fate. 
Six thousand years in strife have rolled away. 
Since Erin sprang from billowy surf and spray; 
In that drear lapse, her sous have never known 
One ray of peace to gild her crimson zone. 
Cast back your glance athwart the tide of years. 
Behold each billow steeped with Erin's tears. 
Inspect each drop that swells the mighty flood, 
Its purple globules smoke with human blood! 

Come with me now, and trace the seraph's path. 
That has been trodden since his day of wrath. 
Lo! in the year when Attila the Hun 
Had half the world in terror overrun. 
On Erin's shore there stood a noble youth, 
The breath of honor and the torch of truth. 
His was the tongue that taught the Celtic soul 
Christ was its Saviour, Heaven Avas its goal! 
His was the hand that drove subdued away, 
The venom horde that lured but to betray; 



196 Caxton s Book. 

His were the feet that sanctified the sod, 
Erin redeemed, and gave her back to God! 
The gray old Earth can boast no purer fame 
Than that whose halos gild St. Patrick's name! 

Twelve times the centuries builded up their store 
Of plots, rebellions, gibbets, tears and gore; 
Twelve times centennial annivers'ries came, 
To bless the serajsh in St. Patrick's name. 
In that long night of treach'ry and gloom. 
How many myriads found a martyr's tomb! 
Beside the waters of the dashing Rhone 
In exile starved the bold and blind Tyrone. 
Beneath the glamour of the tyrant's steel 
"Went out in gloom the soul of great O'Neill. 
What countless thousands, children of her loin, 
Sank unanneal'd beneath the bitter Boyne ! 
What fathers fell, what mothers sued in vain, 
In Tredah's walls, on Wexford's gory jDlain, 
When Cromwell's shaven panders slaked their lust. 
And Ireton's fiends despoiled the breathless dust! 

Still came no seraph, incarnate in man, 

To rescue Erin from the bandit clan. 

Still sad and lone, she languished in her chains, 

That clank'd in chorus o'er her martyrs' manes. 

At length, when Freedom's struggle was begun 
Across the seas, by conq'riug Washington, 
When CuRRAN thunder'd, and when Grattan spoke, 
The guardian seraph from his slumber woke. 
Then guilty Norbury from his vengeance fled, 
Fitzgerald fought, and glorious Wolfe Tone bled. 
Then Emmet rose, to start the battle-cry. 
To strike, to plead, to threaten, and to die! 
Immortal Emmet! happier in thy doom. 
Though uninscrib'd remains thj'^ seraph tomb. 



The Eme7'ald Isle. 197 

Than the long line of Erin's scepter'd foes, 
Whose bones in proud mausoleums repose; 
More noble blood through Emmet's pulses rings 
Than courses through ten thousand hearts of kings! 

Thus has the seraph twice redeem'd his fate, 
And roamed a mortal through this low estate; 
Again obedient to divine command, 
His final incarnation is at hand. 

THE PROPHECY. 

Scarce shall yon %ViUfive times renew the year. 

Ere Erin's guardian Angel shall appear, 

Not as a priest, in holy garb arrayed; 

Not as a patriot, by his cause betray'd. 

Shall he again assume a mortal guise. 

And tread the earth, an exile from the skies. 

But like the lightning from the welkin hurl'd, 

His eye shall light, his step shall shake the world ! 

Ye sons of Erin! from your slumbers start! 

Eeel ye no vengeance burning in your heart? 

Are ye but scions of degenerate slaves? 

Shall tyrants spit upon your fathers' graves ? 

Is all the life-blood stagnant in your veins ? 

Love ye no music but the clank of chains ? 

Hear ye no voices ringing in the air, 

That chant in chorus wild, Prepare, prepare! 

Hark! on the winds there comes a prophet sound, — 

The blood of Abel crying from the ground, — 

Pealing in tones of thunder through the world, 

" Arm! Arm! The Flag of Erin is unfurl'd!" 

On some bold headland do I seem to stand, 
And watch the billows breaking 'gainst the land; 
Not in lone rollers do their waters pour, 
But the vast ocean rushes to the shore. 



198 



Caxtou s Book. 



So flock in millions sons of honest toil, 
From ev'ry country, to their native soil; 
Exiles of Erin, driven from her sod. 
By foes of justice, mercy, man, and God! 
^rial chariots spread their snowy wings, 
And drop torpedoes in the halls of kings. 
On every breeze a thousand banners fly. 
And Erin's seraph swells the battle-cry: — 
" Strike! till the Unicorn shall lose the crown! 



Strike 
Strike 
Strike 
Strike 
Strike 
Strike 



till the Eagle tears the Lion down ! 

till proud Albion bows her haughty head ! 

for the living and the martyr'd dead! 

for the bones that till your mothers' graves! 

till your kindred are no longer slaves ! 

till fair Freedom on the world shall smile! 



For Grod ! for Truth ! and for the Emerald Isle !" 




XIII. 

THE EARTH'S HOT CENTER. 

THE following extracts from the report of the Hon. 
John riaunagan, United States Consul at Bruges, 
in Belgium, to the Secretary of State, published in the 
Washington City Telegraph of a late date, will fully 
explain what is meant by the " Great Scare in Belgium." 
Our extracts are not taken continuously, as the entire 
document would be too voluminous for our pages. But 
where breaks appear we have indicated the hiatus in the 
usual manner by asterisks, or by brief explanations. 

GEN. FLANNAGAn's REPORT. 

Bkuges, December 12, 1872. 
To THE Hon. Hamilton Fish, 

Secretary of State. 

Sir: In pursuance of special instructions recently received 
from Washington (containing inclosures from Prof. Henry 
of the Smithsonian Institute, and Prof. Loveriug of Har- 
vard), I proceeded on Wednesday last to the scene of 
operations at the "International Exploring Works," and 
beg leave to submit the following circumstantial report: 

Before proceeding to detail the actual state of aftairs at 
Dudzeele, near the line of canal connecting Bruges with 
the North Sea, it may not be out of place to furnish a 
succinct history of the origin of the explorations ovit of 
which the present alarming events have arisen. It will be 
remembered by the State Department that during the short 
interregnum of the provisional government of France, under 
Lamartine and Cavaignac, in 1848, a proposition was sub- 
mitted by France to the governments of the United States, 
Great Britain and Russia, and which was subsequently 



200 Caxton s Book. 

extended to King Leopold of Belgium, to create an "Inter- 
national Board for Subterranean Exploration" in further- 
ance of science, and in order, primarily, to test the 'truth 
of the theory of igneous central fusion, first proj)ounded by" 
Leibnitz, and afterward embraced by most of contemporary 
geologists; but also with the further objects of ascertaining 
the magnetic condition of the earth's crust, the variations 
of the needle at great depths, and finally to set at rest the 
doubts of some of the English mineralogists concerning the 
permanency of the coal measures, about which considerable 
alarm had been felt in all the manufacturing centers of 
Europe. 

The protocol of a quintuple treaty was finally drawn by 
Prof. Henry, of the Smithsonian Institute, and approved 
by Sir Roderick Murchison, at that time President of the 
Royal Society of Great Britain. To this project Arago lent 
the weight of his great name, and Nesselrode affixed the 
approval of Russia, it being one of the last official acts 
performed by that veteran statesman. 

The programme called for annual appropriations by each 
of the above-named powers of 100,000 francs (about $20,000 
each), the appointment of commissioners and a general 
superintendent, the selection of a site for prosecuting the 
undertaking, and a board of scientific visitors, consisting of 
one member from each country. 

It is unnecessary to detail the proceedings for the first 
few months after the organization of the commission. Prof. 
Watson, of Chicago, the author of a scientific treatise called 
" Prairie Geology," was selected by President Fillmore, as 
the first representative of the United States; Russia sent 
Olgokoff; France, Ango Jeuno; England, Sir Edward 
Sabine, the present President of the Royal Society; and 
Belgium, Dr. Secchi, since so famous for his spectroscopic 
observations on the fixed stars. These gentlemen, after 
organizing at Paris, spent almost an entire year in traveling 
before a site for the scene of operations was selected. 
Finally, on the 10th of April, 1849, the first ground was 
broken for actual work at Dudzeele, in the neighborhood of 
Bruges, in the Kingdom of Belgium. 

Tlje considerations which led to the choice of this locality 
were the following: First, it was the most central, regarding 
the capitals of the parties to the protocol ; secondly, it was 
easy of access and connected by rail with Brussels, Paris and 
St. Petersburg, and by line of steamers with London, being 



The Earth's Hot Center. 201 

-situated within a short distance of the mouth of the Hond 
or west Scheldt; thirdly, and perhaps as the most important 
consideration of all, it was the seat of the deepest shaft in 
the world, namely, the old salt mine at Dudzeele, which 
had been worked from the time of the Romans down to the 
commencement of the present century, at which time it was 
abandoned, principally on account of the intense heat at 
the bottom of the excavation, and which could not be en- 
tirely overcome except by the most costly scientific appli- 
ances. 

There was still another reason, which, in the estimation 
of at least one member of the commission. Prof. Watson, 
overrode them all — the exceptional increase of heat with 
depth, which was its main characteristic. 

The scientific facts upon which this great work was pro- 
jected, may be stated as follows: It is the opinion of the 
jirincipal modern geologists, based primarily ui^on the 
hypothesis of Kant (that the solar universe was originally 
an immense mass of incandescent vapor gradually cooled 
and hardened after being thrown ofl' from the grand central 
l)ody — afterward elaborated by La Place into the present 
nebular h^^pothesis) — that " the globe was once in a state of 
igneous fusion, and that as its heated mass began to cool, 
an exterior crust was formed, first very thin, and afterward 
gradually increasing until it attained its pi'esent thickness, 
which has been variously estimated at from ten to two hun- 
dred miles. During the process of gradual refrigeration, 
some portions of the crust cooled more rapidly than others, 
and the pressure on the interior igneous mass being unequal, 
the heated matter or lava burst through the thinner parts, 
:and caused high-peaked mountains; the same cause also 
producing all volcanic action." The arguments in favor of 
this doctrine are almost innumerable; these are among the 
most prominent: 

First. The form of the earth is just that which an igneous 
liquid mass would assume if thrown into an orbit with an 
•axial revolution similar to that of our earth. Not many 
years ago Professor Faraday, assisted by Wheatstone, de- 
vised a most ingenious apparatus by which, in the labor- 
.atory of the Royal Society, he actually was enabled, by 
injecting a flame into a vacuum, to exhibit visibly all the 
phenomena of the formation of the solar universe, as con- 
tended for b^^La Place and by Hvimboldt in his " Cosmos." 

Secondly. It is perfectly well ascertained that heat in- 



202 Caxtofis Book. 

creases with depth, in all subterranean excavations. This 
is the invariable rule in mining shafts, and preventive 
measures must always be devised and used, by means gener- 
ally of air apparatus, to temjDer the heat as the depth 
is augmented, else deep minizig would have to be aban- 
doned. The rate of increase has been variously estimated 
by different scientists in widely distant portions of the 
globe. A few of them may be mentioned at this place^ 
since it was upon a total miscalculation on this head that- 
led to the present most dejjlorable results. 

The editor of the Journal of Science, in April, 1832, cal- 
culated from results obtained in six of the deepest coal 
mines in Durham and Northumberland, the mean rate of 
increase at one degree of Fahrenheit for a descent of forty- 
four English feet. 

In this instance it is noticeable that the bulb of the ther- 
mometer was introduced into cavities purposely cut into the 
solid rock, at depths varying from two hundred to nine 
hundred feet. The Dolcoath mine in Cornwall, as exam- 
ined by Mr. Fox, at the dej^th of thirteen hundred and 
eighty feet, gave an average result of four degrees for eveiy 
seventy-five feet. 

Kvipffer compared results obtained from the silver mines 
in Mexico, Peru and Freiburg, from the salt wells of 
Saxony, and from the coj^per mines in the Caucasus, 
together with an examination of the tin mines of Cornwall 
and the coal mines in the north of England, and found the 
average to be at least one degree of Fahrenheit for every 
thirty-seven English feet. Cordier, on the contrary', con- 
siders this amount somewhat overstated and reduces the- 
general average to one degree Centigrade for every twenty- 
five metres, or about one degree of Fahrenheit for every 
forty-five feet English measure. 

Thirdly. That the lavas taken from all parts of the- 
world, when subjected to chemical analysis, indicate that 
they all proceed from a common source; and 

Fourthly. On no other hypothesis can we account for 
the change of climate indicated by fossils. 

The rate of increase of heat in the Dudzeele shaft was no 
less than one degree Fahrenheit for every thirty feet Eng- 
lish measure. 

At the time of recommencing sinking in the shaft on the- 
10th of April, 1849, the perpendicular depth was twenty- 
three hundred and seventy feet, the thermometer marking- 



The Earth's Hot Ceiiter. 203 

forty-eight degrees Fahrenheit at the surface; this would 
give the enormous heat of one hundred and twenty-sevea 
degrees Fahrenheit at the bottom of the mine. Of course, 
without ventilation no human being could long survive iu 
such an atmosphere, and the first operations of the com- 
mission were directed to remedy this inconvenience. 

The report then proceeds to give the details of a 
very successful contrivance for forcing air into the 
shaft at the greatest depths, only a portion of which da 
we deem it important to quote, as follows: 

The width of the Moer-Vater, or Lieve, at this point, 
was ten hundred and eighty yards, and spanned by an old 
bridge, the stone piers of which were very near together, 
having been built by the emperor Hadrian in the early part 
of the second century. The rise of the tide in the North 
Sea, close at hand, was from fifteen to eighteen feet, thus 
producing a current almost as rapid as that of the Mersey 
at Liverpool. The commissioners determined to utilize 
this force, in preference to the erection of expensive steam 
works at the mouth of the mine. A plan was submitted 
by Cyrus W. Field, and at once adopted. Turbine wheels 
were built, covering the space betwixt each arch, movable, 
and adapted to the rise and fall of the tide. Gates were 
also constructed between each arch, and a head of water, 
ranging from ten to fifteen feet fall, provided for each turn 
of the tide— both in the ebb and the flow, so that there 
should be a continuous motion to the machinery. Near the 
mouth of the shaft two large boiler-iron reservoirs were 
constructed, capable of holding from one hundred and fifty 
thovisand to two hundred thousand cubic feet of compressed 
air, the average rate of condensation being about two hun- 
dred atmospheres. These reservoirs were properly con- 
nected with the j)umping apparatus of the bridge by large 
cast-iron mains, so that the supply was continuous, and at 
an almost nominal cost. It was by the same power of 
comj^ressed air that the tunneling through Mount St. Goth- 
ard was efl:ected for the Lyons and Turin Eailway, just 
completed. 

The first operations were to enlarge the shaft so as to 
form an opening forty by one hundred feet, English meas- 
ure. This consumed the greater part of the year 1849, so 



204 Caxtoii s Book. 

that the real work of sinkinf^ was not fairly under way 
until early in 1850. But from that period down to the 
memorable 5th of November, 1872, the excavation steadily 
progressed. I neglected to state at the outset that M. Jean 
Dusoloy, the State engineer of Belgium, was appointed 
General Superintendent, and continued to fill that impor- 
tant office until he lost his life, on the morning of the Gth 
of November, the melancholly details of which are herein- 
after fully narrated. 

As the deepening progressed the heat of the bottom con- 
tinued to increase, but it was soon observed in a different 
ratio from the calculations of the experts. After attaining 
the depth of fifteen thousand six hundred and fifty feet, 
— about the height of Mt. Blanc — which was reached early 
in 1864, it was noticed, for the first time, that the laws of 
temperature and gravitation were synchronous; that is, that 
the heat augmented in a ratio proportioned to the square of 
the distance from the surface downward. Hence the in- 
crease at great depths l)ore no relation at all to the appar- 
ently gradual augmentation near the surface. As early as 
June, 1868, it became apparent that the sinking, if carried 
on at all, would have to be protected by some atheromatous 
or adiathermic covering. Professor Tyndall was aj^plied to, 
and, at the request of Lord Palmerston, made a vast num- 
ber of experiments on non-conducting bodies. As the 
result of his labors, he prepared a compound solution about 
the density of common white lead, composed of selenite 
^lum and sixlphate of cojjper, which was laid on three or 
four thicknesses, first upon the bodies of the naked miners 
— for in all deep mines the operatives work in jniria natur- 
aUbiLH — and then upon an oval-shaped cage made of pajner 
mache, with a false bottom, enclosed within which the 
miners were enabled to endure the intense heat for a shift 
of two hours each day. The drilling was all done by 
means of the diamond-pointed instrument, and the blasting 
by nitro-glycei'ine from the outset; so that the i:)rincipal 
labor consisted in shoveling uj) the debris and keeping the 
drill-point in situ. 

Before proceeding further it may not be improper to enu- 
merate a few of the more important scientific facts which, 
up to the 1st of NovemV)er of the past year, had been satis- 
factorily established. First in importance is the one 
alluded to above — the rate of increase of temperature as we 
descend into the bowels of the earth. This law, shown 



The Eai'tJi s Hot Cente7\ 205. 

above to correspond exactly witb the law of attraction or 
gravitation, Lad been entirely overlooked by all the scien- 
tists, living or dead. No one had for a moment suspected 
that heat followed the universal law of physics as a material 
body ought to do, simpl}' because, from the time of De 
Saussure, heat had been regarded only as a force or ris viva 
and not as a ponderable quality. 

But not only was heat found to be subject to the law 
of inverse ratio of the square of the distance from the sur- 
face, but the amosphere itself followed the same invariable 
rule. Thus, while we know that water boils at the level of 
the sea at two hundred and twelve degrees Fahrenheit, it 
readily vaporizes at one hundred and eighty-five degrees on 
the peak of Tenerifi'e, only fifteen thousand feet above that 
level. This, we know, is owing to the weight of the super- 
incumbent atmosjihere, there being a heavier burden at the 
surface than at any height above it. The rate of decrease 
above the surface is perfectly regular, being one degree for 
every five hundred and ninety feet of ascent. But the 
amazing fact was shown that the weight of the atmosphere 
increased in a ratio proportioned to the square of the dis- 
tance downward The magnetic needle 

also evinced some curious disturbance, the dip being inva- 
riably upward. Its action also was exceedingly feeble, and 
the day before the operations ceased it lost all polarity 
whatever, and the finest magnet would not meander from 
the point of the compass it happened to be left at for the 
time being. As Sir Edward Sabine finely said, " The hands 
of the magnetic clock stopped." But the activity of the 
needle gradually increased as the surface was approached. 

All electrical action also ceased, which fully confirms the 
theor}--, of Professor Faraday, that "electricity is a force 
generated by the rapid axial revolution of the earth, and that 
magnetic attraction in all cases points or operates at right 
angles to its current." Hence electricity, from the nature 
of its cause, must be superficial. 

Every appearance of water disap])carcd at the depth of 
only 9000 feet. From this depth downward the rock was 
of a basaltic character, having not the slightest appearance 
of granite formation — confirming, in a most remarkable 
manner, the discovery made only last year, that all graniles 
are of aqueous, instead of igneous deposition. As a corol- 
lary from the law of atmospheric i)ressure, it was found 
utterly impossible to vaporize water at a greater depth thau 



2o6 Caxton s Book^ 

24,000 feet, which point was reached in 1869. No amount 
of heat affected it in the least jDerceptible mannei*, and on 
weighing the liquid at the greatest depth attained, by means 
of a nicely adjusted scale, it was found to be of a density 
exjDressed thus: 198,073, being two degrees or integers of 
atomic weight heavier than gold, at the surface. 

The report then proceeds to discuss the question of 
the true figure of the earth, whether an oblate spheroid, 
as generally supposed, or only truncated at the poles; 
the length of a degree of longitude at the latitude of 
Dudzeele, 51 deg. 20 miu. N., and one or two oth«r 
problems. The concluding portion of the report is re- 
produced in full. 

For the past twelve months it was found impossible to 
endure the heat, even sheltered as the miners were by the 
atmosj^heric cover and cage, for more than fifteen minutes at 
a time, so that the expense of sinking had increased geo- 
metrically for the past two years. However, important 
results had been obtained, and a perj^endicular depth 
reached many thousands of feet below the deepest sea 
soundings of Lieutenant Brooks. In fact, the enormous 
excavation, on the 1st of November, 1872, measured per- 
pendicularly, no less than 37,810 feet and 6 inches from the 
floor of the shaft building ! The highest peak of the Him- 
alayas is only little over 28,000 feet, so that it can at once 
be seen that no time had been thrown away by the Com- 
missioners since the inceiDtion of the undertaking, in April, 
1849. 

The first symptoms of alarm were felt on the evening of 
November 1. The men complained of a vast increase of 
heat, and the cages had to be dropped every five minutes 
for the greater part of the night; and of those who attempted 
to work, at least one half were extricated in a condition of 
fainting, but one degree from cyncope. Toward morning, 
hoarse, profound and frequent subterranean explosions were 
heard, which had increased at noon to one dull, threatening 
and continuous roar. But the miners went down bravely 
to their tasks, and resolved to work as long as human endur- 
ance could bear it. But this was not to be much longer; 
for late at night, on the 4th, after hearing a terrible explo- 



The Earth's Hot Center. 207 

•sion, -wliich shook the whole neighborhood, a hot sirocco 
issued from the bottom, which drove them all out in a state 
of asphyxia. The heat at the surface became absolutely 
xineudurable, and on sending down a cage with only a dog- 
in it, the materials of which it was composed took fire, and 
tbe animal perished in the flames. At 3 o'clock a. m. the 
iron fastenings to another cage were found fused, and the 
wire ropes were melted for more than 1000 feet at tbe other 
end. The detonations became more frequent, the trembling 
of the earth at the surface more violent, and the heat more 
oppressive around the mouth of the orifice. A few minutes 
before 4 o'clock a subterranean crash was heard, louder than 
Alpine thunder, and immediately afterward a furious cloud 
of ashes, smoke and gaseous exhalation shot high up into 
the still darkened atmosphere of night. At this time at least 
one thousand of the terrified and half-naked inhabitants of 
the neighboring village of Dudzeele had collected on the 
-spot, and with wringing hands and fearful outcries bewailed 
their fate, and threatened instant death to the officers of the 
commission, and even to the now terrified miners. Finally, 
just before dawn, on the 5th of November, or, to be more 
precise, at exactly twenty minutes past 6 a. m. , molten lava 
made its apj^earauce at the surface ! 

The fright now became general, and as the burning build- 
ings shed their ominous glare around, and the languid 
stream of liquid fire slowl}' bubbled up and rolled toward 
the canal, the scene assumed an aspect of awful sublimity 
ajad grandeur. The plains around were lit up for many 
leagues, and the foggy skies intensified and redu2:)licated 
the effects of the illumination. Toward sunrise the flow 
of lava was suspended for nearly an hour, but shortly after 
ten o'clock it suddenly increased its volume, and, as it 
■cooled, formed a sort of saucer-shaped funnel, over the 
edges of which it boiled up, broke, and ran off in every 
direction. It was at this period that the accomplished 
Dusoloy, so long the Suj)erinteudent, lost his life. As the 
lava slowly meandered along, he attemj^ted to cross the 
stream by stepping from one mass of surface cinders to 
another. Making a false step, the floating rock upon which 
he s]Drang suddenly turned over, and before relief could V)e 
4ifforded his body was consumed to a crisp. I regret to add 
that his fate kindled no sympathy among the assembled 
multitude; but they rudely seized his mutilated reniaii s, 
and amid jeers, execrations, and shouts of triumph, attach td 



2o8 Caxtons Book. 

a large stone to the half-consumed corpse and precipitated 
it into the canal. Thus are the heroes of science frequently 
sacrificed to the fury of a plebeian mob. 

It would aiford me a pleasure to inform the department 
that the unforeseen evils of our scientific convention ter- 
minated here. But I regret to add that such is very far from 
being the case. Indeed, from the aj^pearance of affairs 
this morning at the volcanic crater — for such it has now 
become — the possible evils are almost incalculable. The 
Belgian Government was duly notified by telegraph of the 
death of the Superintendent and the mutinous disjDOsitiou 
of the common people about Bruges, and early on the 
morning of the 6th of November a squad of flying horse 
was dispatched to the spot to maintain order. But this 
interference only made matters worse. The discontent, aug- 
mented by the wildest panic, became universal, and the 
mob reigned supreme. Nor could the poor wretches be 
greatly condemned; for toward evening the lava current 
reached the confines of the old village of Dudzeele, and 
about midnight set the town on fire. The lurid glare of 
the conflagration awakened the old burghers of Bruges 
from their slumbers and spread consternation in the city, 
though distant several miles from the spot. A meeting was 
called at the Guildhall at dawn, and the wildest excite- 
ment prevailed. But after hearing explanations from the 
members of the commission, the poj^ulace quietly bvit dog- 
gedly dispersed. The government from this time forward 
did all that power and prudence combined cuuld effect to 
quell the reign of terror around Bruges. In this country 
the telegrai^h, being a government monopoly, has been 
rigorously watched and a cordon of military posts estab- 
lished around the threatened district, so that it has been 
almost impossible to convey intelligence of this disaster 
beyond the limits of the danger. In the mean time, a con- 
gress of the most experienced scientists was invited to the 
scene for the purpose of suggesting some remedy against 
the prospective spread of the devastation. The first meet- 
ing took place at the old Guildhall in Bruges and was 
strictly private, none being admitted except the diplomatic 
representatives of foreign governments, and the members 
elect of the college. As in duty bound, I felt called on to 
attend, and shall in this place attempt a short synopsis of 
the proceedings. 



The Ear til s Hot Center, 209 

Professor Palmieri, of Naples, presided, and Dr. Kirchoff 
officiated as secretary. 

Gassiot, of Paris, was the first speaker, and contended 
that the theory of nucleatic fusion, now being fully estab- 
lished, it only remained to prescribe the laws governing its 
superficial action. " There is but one law applicable, that 
I am aware of," said he, " and that is the law which drives 
from the center of a revolving body all fluid matter toward 
the circumference, and forcibly ejects it into space, if pos- 
sible, in the same manner that a common grindstone in 
rapid motion will drive off from its rim drops of water or 
other foreign unattached matter. Thus, whenever we find 
a vent or oj)en orifice, as in the craters of active volcanoes, 
the incandescent lava boils uj) and frequently overflows the 
toj^ of the highest peak of the Andes." 

Palmieri then asked the speaker "if he wished to be 
understood as expressing the unqualified opinion that an 
orifice once being opened would continue to flow forevei:, 
and that there was no law governing the quantity or regu- 
lating the level to which it could rise?" 

Gassiot replied in the affirmative. 

The Neapolitan philosoi^her then added: "I dissent in 
toto from the opinion of M. Gassiot. For more than a quar- 
ter of a century I have studied the lava-flows of Vesuvius, 
.3iitna and Stromboli, and I can assure the Congress that 
the Creator has left no such flaw in His mechanism of the 
globe. The truth is, that molten lava can only rise about 
21,000 feet above the level of the sea, owing to the balance- 
wheel of terrestrial gravitation, which counteracts at that 
height all centrifugal energy. Were this not so, the entire 
contents of the globe would gush from the incandescent 
center and fly ofi^into surrovinding space." 

M. Gassiot replied, " that true volcanoes were supplied by 
nature with circumvalviilar lips, and hence, after filling their 
craters, they ceased to flow. But in the instance before us 
no such provision existed, and the only protection which he 
could conceive of consisted in the smallness of the orifice; 
and he would therefore recommend his Majesty King Leo- 
pold to direct all his efi'orts to confine the aperture to its 
present size." 

Palmieri again responded, "that he had no doubt but 
that the crater at Dudzeele would continue to flow until it 
had built up around itself basaltic walls to the height of 
14 



2IO Caxton s Book, 

many hundreds, perhaps thousands, of feet, and that the 
idea of setting bounds to the size of the mouth of the 
excavation was simply ridiculous." 

Gassiot interrupted, and was about to answer in a very 
excited tone, when Prof. Palmieri "disclaimed any inten- 
tion of personal insult, but spoke from a scientific stand- 
point." He then proceeded: "The lava bed of Mount 
-3Etna maintains a normal level of 7000 feet, while Vesuvius 
calmly reposes at a little more than one half that altitude. 
On the other hand, according to Prof. Whitney, of the 
Pacific Survey, Mount Kilauea, in the Sandwich Islands, 
bubbles up to the enormous height of 17,000 feet. It can- 
not be contended that the crater of Vesuvius is not a true 
nucleatic orifice, because I have demonstrated that the 
molten bed regularly rises and falls like the tides of the 
ocean when controlled by the moon." It was seen at once 
that the scientists present were totally unprepared to dis- 
cuss the question in its novel and most imjDortant aspects; 
and on taking a vote, at the close of the session, the mem- 
bers were equally divided between the opinions of Gassiot 
and Palmieri. A further session will take place on the 
arrival of Prof. Tyndall, who has been telegraphed for 
from New York, and of the great Russian geologist and 
astronomer, Tugenieflf. 

In conclusion, the damage already done may be summed 
up as follows: The destruction of the Bruges and Hond 
Canal by the formation of a basaltic dyke across it more 
than two hundred feet wide, the burning of Dudzeele, and 
the devastation of about thirty thousand acres of valuable 
land. At the same time it is utterly impossible to predict 
where the damage may stop, inasmuch as early this morn~ 
ing the mouth of the crater had fallen in, and the flowing 
stream had more than doubled in size. 

In consideration of the part hitherto taken by the Gov- 
ernment of the United States in originating the work that 
led to the catastrophe, and by request of M. Musenheim, 
the Belgian Foreign Secretary, I have taken the liberty of 
drawing upon the State Department for eighty-seven thou- 
sand dollars, being the sum agreed to be paid for the cost 
of emigration to the United States of two hundred families 
(our own pro rata) rendered homeless by the conflagration 
of Dudzeele. 

I am this moment in receipt of your telegram dated yester- 



The Earth' s Hot Ce7itei\ 2 1 1 

day, and rejoice to learn that Prof. Agassiz has returned 
from the South Seas, and will be sent forward without 
delay. 

With great respect, I have the honor to be your obedient 

^®^'^^^*' John Flannagan, 

United States Consul at Bruges. 

P.S. — Since concluding the above dispatch, Professor 
Palmieri did me the honor of a special call, and, after some 
desultory conversation, apj)roached the all-absorbing topic 
of the day, and cautiously expressed his opinion as follows : 
Explaining his theory, as announced at the Congress, he 
said that " Holland, Belgium, and Denmark, being all low 
countries, some portions of each lying below the sea-level, 
he would not be surprised if the present oiitflow of lava 
devastated them all, and covered the bottom of the North 
Sea for many square leagues with a bed of basalt. " The 
reason given was this: " That lava must continue to flow 
until, by its own action, it builds up around the volcanic 
crater a rim or cone high enough to afford a counterpoise 
to the centrifugal tendency of axial energy; and that, as 
the earth's crust was demonstrated to be exceptionally thin 
in the north of Europe, the height required in this instance 
would be so great that an enoi-mous lapse of time must 
ensue before the self-created cone could obtain the neces- 
sary altitude. Before ^tna attained its present secure 
height, it devastated an area as large as France; and Prof. 
Whitney has demonstrated that some center of volcanic 
action, now extinct, in the State of California, threw out a 
stream that covered a much greater surface, as the basaltic 
table mountains, vulgarly so called, extend north and south 
for a distance as great as from Moscow to Rome." In con- 
cluding his remarks, he ventured the prediction that " the 
North Sea would be completely filled up, and the Bi-itish 
Islands again connected with the Continent." 

J. F.,U.S.C. 



XIV. 

WILDErS DREAM. 

A BLACKSMITH stood, at Lis anvil good, 
-^-^ Just fifty years ago. 
And struck in bis might, to the left and right, 

The iron all aglow. 
And fast and far, as each miniature star 

Illumined the dusky air. 
The sparks of his mind left a halo behind, 

Like the aureola of j^rayer. 

And the blacksmith thought, as he hammered and wrought. 

Just fifty years ago, 
Of the sins that start in the human heart 

"When its metal is all aglow; 
And he breathed a prayer, on the evening air. 

As he watched the fire-sparks roll, 
That with hammer and tongs, he might right the wrongs 

That environ the human soul ! 

When he leaned on his sledge, not like minion or drudge^ 

"With center in self alone. 
But with vision so grand, it embraced every land, 

In the sweep of its mighty zone; 
O'er mountain and main, o'er forest and plain. 

He gazed from his swarthy home,^ 
Till rafter and wall, grew up in a hall. 

That covered the world with its dome! 



Wildeys Dream, 213 

'Neath that bending arch, with a tottering march 

All peoples went wailing by, 
To the music of groan, of sob, and of moan. 

To the grave that was yawning nigh, 
When the blacksmith rose and redoubled his blows 

On the iron that was aglow. 
Till his senses did seem to dissolve in a dream. 

Just fifty years ago. 

He thought that he stood upon a mountain chain, 
And gazed across ah almost boundless plain; 
Men of all nations, and of every clime. 
Of ancient epochs, and of modern time, 
Rose in thick ranks before his wandering eye. 
And passed, like waves, in quick succession by. 

Pirst came Osiris, with his Memphian band 

Of swarth Egyptians, darkening all the land; 

"With heads downcast they dragged their limbs along, 

Xiaden with chains, and torn by lash and thong. 

From morn till eve they toiled and bled and died, 

And stained with blood the Nile's encroaching tide. 

Slowly upon the Theban plain there rose 

Old Cheop's pride, a pyramid of woes; 

And millions sank unpitied in their graves. 

With tombs inscribed — " Here lies a realm of slaves." 

Next came great Nimrod prancing on his steed, 

His serried ranks, Assyrian and Mede, 

By bold Sennacherib moulded into one. 

By bestial Sardanapalus undone. 

He saw the walls of Babylon arise. 

Spring from the earth, invade the azure skies, 

And bear upon their airy ramparts old 

Gardens and vines, and fruit, and flowers of gold. 

Beneath their cold and insalubrious shade 

All woes and vices had their coverts made; 



214 Caxtons Book. 

Lascivious incest o'er the land was sown, 
From peasant cabin to imperial throne, 
And that proud realm, so full of might and fame, 
Went down at last in blood, and sin, and shame. 

Then came the Persian, with his vast array 

Of armed millions, fretting for the fray, 

Led on by Xerxes and his harlot horde, 

Where billows swallowed, and where battle roared. 

On every side there rose a bloody screen, 

Till mighty Alexander closed the scene. 

Behold that warrior! in his pomp and j^ride. 

Dash through the world, and over myriads ride; 

Plant his proud pennon on the Gangean stream, 

Pierce where the tigers hide, mount where the eagles scream,. 

And happy only amid war's alarms. 

The clank of fetters, and the clash of arms; 

And moulding man by battle-fields and blows. 

To one foul mass of furies, fiends and foes. 

Such, too, the Roman, vanquishing mankind. 

Their fields to ravage, and their limbs to bind; 

Whose proudest trophy, and whose highest good, 

To write his fame with pencil dipped in blood; 

To stride the world, like Ocean's turbid waves. 

And sink all nations into servient slaves. 

As passed the old, so modern realms swept by, 
Woe in all hearts, and tears in every eye; 
Crimes stained the noble, famine crushed the poor; 
Poison for kings, oppression for the boor; 
Force by the mighty, fraud by the feebler shown; 
Mercy a myth, and charity unknown. 

The Dreamer sighed, for sorrow filled his breast; 
Turned from the scene and sank to deeper rest. 
"Come!" cried a low voice full of music sweet, 
"Come!" and an angel touched his trembling feet. 



Wildey s Dream. 215 

Down the steep hills they wend their toilsome way, 
Cross the vast plain that on their journey lay; 
Gain the dark city, through its suburbs roam. 
And pause at length within the dreamer's home. 

Again he stood at his anvil good 

With an angel by his side, 
And rested his sledge on its iron edge 

And blew up his bellows wide; 
He kindled the flame till the white heat came, 

Then murmured in accent low: 
"All ready am I your bidding to try 

So far as a mortal may go." 

'Midst the heat and the smoke the angel spoke, 

And breathed in his softest tone, 
*' Heaven caught up your prayer on the evening air 

As it mounted toward the throne. 
God weaveth no task for mortals to ask 

Beyond a mortal's control. 
And with hammer and tongs you shall right the wrongs 

That encompass the human soul. 

" But go you first forth 'mong the sons of the earth. 

And bring me a human heart 
That throbs for its kind, spite of weather and wind, 

And acts still a brother's part. 
The night groweth late, but here will I wait 

Till dawn streak the eastern skies; 
And lest you should fail, spread mxj wings on the gale. 

And search with mxj angel eyes." 

The dreamer once more passed the oj^en door. 

But plumed for an angel's flight; 
He sped through the world like a thunderbolt hurled 

When the clouds are alive with light; 



2i6 Caxto7i s Book, 

He followed the sun till his race was won, 

And probed every heart and mind; 
But in every zone man labored alone 

For himself and not for his kind. 

All mournful and flushed, his dearest hopes crushed, 

The dreamer returned to his home, 
And stood in the flare of the forge's red glare. 

Besprinkled with dew and foam. 
" The heart you have sought must be tempered and taught 

In the flame that is all aglow." 
" No heart could I find that was true to its kind. 

So I left all the world in its woe." 

Then the stern angel cried : " In your own throbbing side 

Beats a heart that is sound to the core; 
Will you give your own life to the edge of the knife 

For the widowed, the orphaned, and poor?" 
" Most unworthy am I for my brothers to die, 

And sinful my sorrowing heart; 
But strike, if you will, to redeem or to kill, 

With life I am willing to part." 

Then he threw ope his vest and bared his broad breast 

To the angel's glittering blade; 
Soon the swift purple tide gushed a stream red and wide 

From the wound that the weapon had made. 
With a jerk and a start he then plucked out his heart, 

And buried it deep in the flame 
That flickered and fell like the flashes of hell 

O'er the dreamer's quivering frame. 

*' Now with hammer and tongs you may right all the wrongs 

That environ the human soul; 
But first, you must smite with a Vulcan's might 

The heart in yon blistering bowl." 



JVi/dej/'s Dream. 2 1 7 

'^uick the blacksmith arose, and redoubling his blows, 

Beat the heart that was all aglow, 
"Till its fiery scars like a shower of stars 

Illumined the night with their flow. 

lEvery sling of his sledge reopened the edge 

Of wounds that were healed long ago; 
And from each livid chasm leaped forth a phantasm 

Of passion, of sin, or of woe. 
-]But he heeded no pain as he hammered amain, 

For the angel was holding the heart, 
-And cried at each blow, " Strike high!" or " Strike low!" 

" Strike hither! " or " Yonder apart! " 

■.So he hammered and wrought, and he toiled and fought 

Till Aurora peeped over the j^lain; 
When the angel flew by and ascended the sky, 

Bvit left on the anvil a chain ! 
Its links were as bright as heaven's own light. 

As pure as the fountain of youth; 
And bore on each fold in letters of gold. 

This token — Love, Fkiendship and Truth. 

The dreamer awoke, and peered through the smoke 

At the anvil that slept by his side; 
And then in a wreath of flower-bound sheath, 

The triple-linked chain he espied. 
•^Odd Fellowship's gem is that bright diadem, 

Our emblem in age and in youth; 
IFor our hearts we must prove in the fire of Love, 

And mould with the hammer of Truth. 



XV. 

WHITHER WARD. 

BY pursuing the analogies of nature, tlie human! 
mind reduces to order the vagaries of the imagi- 
nation, and bodies them forth in forms of loveliness andL 
in similitudes of heaven. 

By an irrevocable decree of Nature's God, all his works- 
are progressive in the direction of himself. This law 
is traceable from the molehill up to the mountain, 
from the mite up to the man. Geology, speaking to us. 
from the depths of a past eternity, from annals inscribed 
upon the imperishable rock, utters not one syllable to 
contradict this tremendous truth. Millions of ages ago, 
she commenced her impartial record, and as we unroll 
it to-day, from the coal-bed and the marble quarry, we:^ 
read in creation's dawn as plainly as we behold in. 
operation around us, the mighty decree — Onwaed and 
Upward, Forever! 

In the shadowy past this majestic globe floated 
through the blue ether, a boiling flood of lava. The 
elements were then unborn. Time was not; for as yet- 
the golden laws of Kepler had not emerged from chaos.. 
The sun had not hemmed his bright-eyed daughters in> 
nor marked out on the azure concave the paths they 
were to tread. The planets were not worlds, but shot, 
around the lurid center liquid masses of flame and des— 



Whitherward. 219 

olation. Comets sported at random through the sky, 
and trailed after them their horrid skirts of fire. The- 
Spirit of God had not "moved upon the face of the- 
waters," and rosy Chaos still held the scepter in his- 
hand. But changes were at work. As the coral worm 
toils on in the unfathomable depths of ocean, laying irt 
secret the foundations of mighty continents, destined 
as the ages roll by to emerge into light and grandeur, 
so the laws of the universe carried on their everlasting 
work. 

An eternity elapsed, and the age of fire passed away. 
A new era dawned upon the earth. The gases were^ 
generated, and the elements of air and water overspread 
the globe. Islands began to appear, at first presenting 
pinnacles of bare and blasted granite; but gradually, by 
decay and decomposition, changing into dank marshes 
and fertile plains. 

One after another the sensational universe now springs, 
into being. This but prepared the way for the animated, 
and that in turn formed the groundwork and basis for 
the human. Man then came forth, the result of all her 
previous efi'orts — nature's pet, her paragon and her 
pride. 

Beason sits enthroned upon his brow, and the soul 
wraps its sweet affections about his heart; angels spread 
their wings above him, and God calls him His child. 
He treads the earth its acknowledged monarch, and 
commences its subjection. One by one the elements- 
have yielded to his sway, nature has revealed her hoar- 
iest secrets to his ken, and heaven thrown wide its por- 
tals to his spirit. He stands now upon the very acme 
of the visible creation, and with straining eye, and 
listening ear, and anxious heart, whispers to himself 
that terrific and tremendous word — "Whithekward ! 



2 20 Caxtoji s Book. 

Late one afternoon in April, I was sitting on the 
grassy slope of Telegraph Hill, watching the waves of 
sunset as they rolled in from the west, and broke in . 
crimson spray upon the peaks of the Contra Costa hills. 
I was alone; and, as my custom is, was ruminating upon 
the grand problem of futurity. The broad and beauti- 
ful bay spread out like a sea of silver at my feet, and 
the distant mountains, reflecting the rays of the setting 
«un, seemed to hem it in with barriers of gold. The 
city lay like a tired infant at evening in its mother's 
a,rms, and only at intervals disturbed my reflections by 
its expiring sobs. The hours of business I well knew 
had passed, and the heavy iron door had long since 
grated on its hinges, and the fire-proof shutter been 
bolted for the night. But I felt that my labors had 
just commenced. The duties of my profession had 
swallowed up thought throughout the long Wlurs devo- 
ted to the cares of life, and it was not until I was 
released from their thraldom that I found myself in 
truth a slave. The one master-thought came back into 
my brain, until it burned its hideous image there in 
letters of fire — Whitherward ! Whitherward ! 

The past came up before me with its long memories 
of Egyptian grandeur, with its triumphs of Grecian 
art, with its burden of Roman glory. Italy came with 
her republics, her " starry" Galileo, and her immortal 
Buonarotti. France flashed by, with her garments 
dyed in blood, and her Napoleons in chains. England 
rose up with her arts and her arms, her commerce and 
her civilization, her splendor and her shame. I beheld 
Newton gazing at the stars, heard Milton singing of 
Paradise, and saw Russell expiring on the scaflbld. But 
ever and anon a pale, thorn-crowned monarch, arrayed 
in mock-purple, and bending beneath a cross, would 



Whitherward. 221 

start forth at my side, and with uplifted eye, but speech- 
less lip, point with one hand to the pages of a volume 
I had open on my knee, and with tlie other to the blua 
heaven above. Jndea would then pass with solemn 
tread before me. Her patriarchs, her prophets and her 
apostles, her judges, her kings, and her people, one by 
one came and went like the phantasmagoria of a dream. 
The present then rose up in glittering robes, its feet 
resting upon the mounds of Nimrod, its brow encir- 
cled with a coronet of stars, pillaging, with one hand, 
the cloud above of its lightnings, and sending them 
forth with the other, bridled and subdued, to the utter- 
most ends of the earth. 

But this was not all. Earth's physical history also 
swept by in full review. All nature lent her stores, and 
with an effort of mind, by no means uncommon for 
those who have long thought upon a single subject, I 
seemed to possess the power to generalize all that I had 
ever heard, read or seen, into one gorgeous picture, and 
hang it up in the Avide heavens before me. 

'J'he actual scoiery around me entirely disappeared,, 
and I beheld an immense pyramid of alabaster, reared 
to the very stars, upon whose sides I saw inscribed a 
faithful history of the past. Its foundations were in 
deep shadow, but the light gradually increased toward 
the top, until its summit was bathed in the most reful- 
gent lustre. 

Inscribed in golden letters I read on one of its sides 
these words, in alternate layers, rising gradually to the 
apex: ^^ Gramte, Liquid, Gas, Electricity;'''' on another^ 
^^ Inorganic, Vegetable, Animal, Human;" on the third 
side, "Consciousness, Memory, Reason, Imagination;'''' 
and on the fourth, " Chaos, Order, Harmony, Love.'' 
At this moment I beheld the figure of a human being 



2 22 Caxton s Book. 

standing at the base of tbe pyramid, and gazing intently 
Tipward. He then placed his foot upon the foundation, 
^nd commenced climbing toward the summit. I caught 
-a distinct view of his features, and perceived that they' 
were black and swarthy like those of the most depraved 
Hottentot. He toiled slowly upward, and as he passed 
the first layer, he again looked toward me, and I ob- 
served that his features had undergone a complete 
transformation. They now resembled those of an 
American Indian. He passed the second layer; and as 
lie entered the third, once more presented his face to 
me for observation. Another change had overspread 
it, and I readily recognized in him the tawny native of 
Malacca or Hindoostau. As he reached the last layer, 
and entered its region of refulgent light, I caught a full 
glimpse of his form and features, and beheld the high 
forehead, the glossy ringlets, the hazel eye, and the 
-alabaster skin of the true Caucasian. 

I now observed for the first time that the pyramid 
was left unfinished, and that its summit, instead of pre- 
senting a well-defined peak, was in reality a level plain. 
In a few moments more, the figure I had traced from 
the base to the fourth layer, reached the apex, and 
stood with folded arms and upraised brow upon the 
very summit. His lips parted as if about to speak, 
and as I leaned forward to hear, I caught, in distinct 
tone and thrilling accent, that word which had so often 
risen to my own lips for utterance, and seared my very 
brain, because unanswered — Whitherward ! 

"Whitherward, indeed!" exclaimed I, aloud, shud- 
dering at the sepulchral sound of my voice. " Home," 
responded a tiny voice at my side, and turning suddenly 
-around, my eyes met those of a sweet little school-girl, 
with a basket of flowers upon her arm, who had ap- 



Whitherward. 223 

proached me unobserved, and wlio evidently imagined 
I had addressed her when I spoke. *' Yes, little daugh- 
ter," replied I, "'tis time to proceed homeward, for 
iihe sun has ceased to gild the summit of Diavolo, and 
the evening star is visible in the west. I will attend 
you home," and taking her proffered hand, I descended 
the hill, with the dreadful word still ringing in my ears, 
and the fadeless vision still glowing in my heart. 

Midnight had come and gone, and still the book lay 
'Open on my knee. The candle had burned down close 
to the socket, and threw a flickering glimmer around 
my chamber; but no indications of fatigue or slumber 
"visited my eyelids. My temples throbbed heavily, and 
-I felt the hot and excited blood playing like the piston- 
rod of an engine between my heart and brain. 

I had launched forth on the broad ocean of specula- 
tion, and now perceived, when too late, the perils of 
my situation. Above me were dense and lowering 
-clouds, which no eye could penetrate; around me howl- 
ing tempests, which no voice could quell; beneath me 
lieaving billows, which no oil could calm. I thought of 
Plato struggling with his doubts; of Epicurus sinking 
beneath them; of Socrates swallowing his poison; of 
'"Cicero surrendering himself to despair. I remembered 
how all the great souls of the earth had staggered 
beneath the burden of the same thought, which weighed 
like a thousand Cordilleras upon my own; and as I 
pressed my hand upon my burning brow, I cried again 
-and again — Whitherward ! Whitherward ! 

I could find no relief in philosophy; for I knew her 
■maxims by heart from Zeno and the Stagirite down to 
Berkeley and Cousin. I had followed her into all her 
.hiding-places, and courted her in all her moods. No 



2 24 Caxton s Book. 

coquette was ever half so false, so fickle, and so fair^ 
Her robes are woven of the sunbeams, and a star 
adorns her brow; but she sits impassive upon her icy 
throne, and wields no scepter but despair. The light 
she throws around is not the clear gleam of the sun-^ 
shine, nor the bright twinkle of the star; but glances-- 
in fitful glimmerings on the soul, like the aurora on the 
icebergs of the pole, and lightens up the scene only to 
show its utter desolation. 

The Bible lay open before me, but I could find no 
comfort there. Its lessons were intended only for the 
meek and humble, and my heart was cased in pride. 
It reached only to the believing; I was tossed on an 
ocean of doubt. It required, as a condition to faith, 
the innocence of an angel and the humility of a child: 
I had long ago seared my conscience by mingling ia 
the busy scenes of life, and was proud of ni}- mental 
acquirements. The Bible spoke comfort to the Publi- 
can; I was of the straight sect of the Pharisees. Its 
promises were directed to the poor in spirit, whilst 
mine panted for renown. 

At this moment, whilst heedlessly turning over its 
leaves and scarcely glancing at their contents, my atten- 
tion was arrested by this remarkable passage in one of 
Paul's epistles: "That was not /z'rs^ which is spiritual,, 
but that which was natural, and (iftenoard that Avhich 
is spiritual. Behold, I show you a mystery: ive shall 
not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment^ 
in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump." 

Again and again I read this text, for it promised more 
by reflection than at first appeared in the words. Slowly 
a light broke in on the horizon's verge, and I felt, for 
the first time in my whole life, that the past was not all 
inexplicable, nor the future a chaos, but that the humaik. 



Wkiikerward. 225 

soul, lit up by the torch of science, and guided by the 
prophecies of Holy Writ, might predict the path it is 
destined to tread, and read in advance the history of 
its final enfranchisement. St. Paul evidently intended 
to teach the doctrine of progress, even in its applica- 
bility to man. He did not belong to that narrow- 
minded sect in philosophy, which declares that the 
earth and the heavens are finished; that man is the 
crowning glory of his Maker, and the utmost stretch of 
His creative power; that henceforth the globe which he 
inhabits is barren, and can produce no being superior 
to himself. On the contrary, he clearly intended to 
teach the same great truth which modern science is 
demonstrating to all the world, that progression is 
nature's first law, and that even in the human kingdom 
the irrevocable decree has gone forth — Onward and 
Upwaed, Forever! 

Such were my reflections when the last glimmer of 
the candle flashed up like a meteor, and then as sud- 
denly expired in night. I was glad that the shadows 
were gone. Better, thought I, is utter darkness than 
that poor flame which renders it visible. But I had 
suddenly grown rich in thought. A clue had been fur- 
nished to the labyrinth in which I had wandered from 
a child; a hint had been planted in the mind which it 
would be impossible ever to circumscribe or extinguish. 
One letter had been identified by which, like Champol- 
lion le Jeune, I could eventually decipher the inscrip- 
tion on the pyramid. What are these spectral appari- 
tions which rear themselves in the human mind, and 
are called by mortals hints ? Whence do they come ? 
Who lodges them in the chambers of the mind, where 
they sprout and germinate, and bud and blossom, and 
bear? 

15 



226 Caxto?is Book. 

The Florentine caught one as it fell from the stars, 
and invented the telescope to observe them. Columbus 
caught another, as it was whispered by the winds, and 
they wafted him to the shores of a New World. Frank- 
lin beheld one flash forth from the cloud, and he traced 
the lightnings to their bourn. Another dropped from 
the skies into the brain of Leverrier, and he scaled the 
very heavens, till he unburied a star. 

Eapidly was my mind working out the solution of the 
problem which had so long tortured it, based upon the 
intimation it had derived from St. Paul's epistle, when 
most unexpectedly, and at the same time most unwel- 
comely, I fell into one of those strange moods which 
can neither be called sleep nor consciousness, but which 
leave their impress far more powerfully than the visions 
of the night or the events of the day. 

I beheld a small egg, most beautifully dotted over, 
and stained. Whilst my eye rested on it, it cracked; 
an opening was made from ivithin, and almost imme- 
diately afterward a bird of glittering plumage and 
mocking song flew out, and perched on the bough of a 
rose-tree, beneath whose shadow I found myself reclin- 
ing. Before my surprise had vanished, I beheld a 
painted worm at my feet, crawling toward the root of 
the tree which was blooming above me. It soon 
reached the trunk, climbed into the branches, and 
commenced spinning its cocoon. Hardly had it finished 
its silken home, ere it came forth in the form of a gor- 
geous butterfly, and, spreading its wings, mounted to- 
ward the heavens. Quickly succeeding this, the same 
pyramid of alabaster, which I had seen from the summit 
of Telegraph Hill late in the afternoon, rose gradually 
upon the view. It was in nowise changed; the inscrip- 
tions on the sides were the same, and the identical 



Whitherward, 227 

figure stood with folded arms and uplifted brow upon 
the top. I now heard a rushing sound, such as stuns 
the ear at Niagara, or greets it during a hurricane at 
sea, M^ien the shrouds of the ship are whistling to the 
blast, and the flashing billows are dashing against her 
sides. 

Suddenly the pyramid commenced changing its form, 
and before many moments elapsed it had assumed the 
rotundity of a globe, and I beheld it covered with seas, 
and hills, and lakes, and mountains, and plains, and fer- 
tile fields. But the human figure still stood upon its 
crest. Then came forth the single blast of a bugle, 
such as the soldier hears on the morn of a world-chang- 
ing battle. Caesar heard it at Pharsalia, Titus at Jeru- 
salem, Washington at Yorktown, and Wellington at 
Waterloo. 

No lightning flash ever rended forest king from crest 
to root quicker than the transformation which now over- 
spread the earth. In a second of time it became as 
transparent as crystal, and as brilliant as the sun. But 
in every other respect it preserved its identity. On 
casting my eyes toAvard the human being, I perceived 
that he still preserved his position, but his feet did not 
seem to touch the earth. He appeared to be floating 
upon its arch, as the halcyon floats in the atmosphere. 
His features were lit up with a heavenly radiance, and 
assumed an expression of superhuman beauty. 

The thought crossed my mind. Can this be a spirit ? 
As sudden as the question came forth the response, " I 
am." But, inquired my mind, for my lips did not 
move, you have never passed the portals of the grave ? 
Again I read in his features the answer, " For ages this 
earth existed as a natural body, and all its inhabitants 
partook of its characteristics; gradually it approached 



228 Caxton s Book. 

the spiritual state, and by a law like that which trans- 
forms the egg into the songster, or the worm into the 
butterfly, it has just accomplished one of its mighty 
cycles, and now gleams forth with the refulgence of the 
stars. I did not die, but passed as naturally into the 
spiritual world as the huge earth itself. Prophets and 
apostles predicted this change many hundred years ago; 
but the blind infatuation of our race did not permit 
them to realize its truth. Your own mind, in common 
with the sages of all time, long brooded over the idea, 
and oftentimes have you exclaimed, in agony and dis- 
may — Whithekwaed ! Whitherwakd ! 

"The question is now solved. The revolution may 
not come in the year allotted you, but so surely as St. 
Paul spoke inspiration, so surely as science elicits truth, 
so surely as the past prognosticates the future, the 
natural world must pass into the spiritual, and every- 
thing be changed in the twinkling of an eye. Watch 
well! your own ears may hear the clarion note, your 
own eyes witness the transfiguration." 

Slowly the vision faded away, and left me straining 
my gaze into the dark midnight which now shrouded 
the world, and endeavoring to calm my heart, which 
throbbed as audibly as the hollow echoes of a drum. 
When the morning sun peeped over the Contra Costa 
range, I still sat silent and abstracted in my chair, re- 
volving over the incidents of the night, but thankful 
that, though the reason is powerless to brush away the 
clouds which obscure the future, yet the imagination 
may spread its wings, and, soaring into the heavens 
beyond them, answer the soul when in terror she in- 
quires — Whitherward ! 



XYI. 

OUR WEDDING-DAY. 

I. 

A DOZEN springs, and more, dear Sue, 
Have bloomed, and passed away, 
Since hand in hand, and heart to heart, 

"We spent our wedding-day. 
Youth blossomed on our cheeks, dear Sue, 

Joy chased each tear of woe, 
When first we promised to be true, 
That morning long ago. 

II, 
Though many cares have come, dear Sue, 

To checker life's career, 
As down its pathway we have trod, 

In trembling and in fear. 
Still in the darkest storm, dear Sue, 

That lowered o'er the way, 
We clung the closer, while it blew, 

And laughed the clouds away. 

ni. 
'Tis true, our home is humble, Sue, 

And riches we have not, 
But children gambol round our door, 

And consecrate the spot. 
Our sons are strong and brave, dear Sue, 

Our daughters fair and gay. 
But none so beautiful as you, 

Upon our wedding-day. 



230 Caxton s Book. 

No grief lias crossed our threshold, Sue, 

No crape festooned the door, 
But health has waved its halcyon wings. 

And plenty filled our store. 
Then let's be joyful, darling Sue, 

And chase dull cares away, 
And kindle rosy hope anew, 

As on our wedding-day. 




XVII. 

THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW. 

/^NE more flutter of time's restless wing, 

^-^ One more furrow in the forehead of spring; 

One more step in the journey of fate, 

One more ember gone out in life's grate; 

One more gray hair in the head of the sage, 

One more round in the ladder of age; 

One leaf more in the volume of doom, 

And one span less in the inarch to the tomb. 

Since brothers, we gathered around bowl and tree. 

And Santa Glaus welcomed with frolic and glee. 

How has thy life been speeding 

Since Aurora, at the dawn, 
Peeped within thy j)ortals, leading 

The babe year, newly born? 

Has thy soul been scorched by sorrow. 

Has some spectre nestled there? 
And with every new to-morrow. 

Sowed the seeds of fresh despair ? 
Kise from thy grief, my brothers ! 

Burst its chain with strength sublime. 
For behold ! I bring another, 

And a fairer child of time. 

Has the year brought health and riches? 

Have thy barns been brimming o'er? 
Will thy stature fit the niches 

Hewn for Hercules of yore? 



232 Caxtoii s Book. 

Are thy muscles firm as granite? 

Are thy thousands safe and sound? 
Behold! the rolling planet 

Starts on a nobler round. 

But perhaps across thy vision 

Death had cast its shadow there, 
And thy home, once all elysian. 

Now crapes an empty chair; 
Or happier, thy dominions, 

Spreading broad and deep and strong, 
Ee-echo 'neath love's pinions 

To a pretty cradle song! 

"Whate'er thy fortunes, brother! 

God's blessing on your head; 
Joy for the living mother, 

Peace with the loving dead. 




XVIII. 

A PAIR OF MYTHS: 

BEING A CHAPTER FROM AN UNPUBLISHED WORK. 

EIGHT days passed away unreckoiied, and still I re- 
mained unconscious of everything occurring around 
me. The morning of the ninth dawned, dragged heavily 
along, and noon approached, whilst I lay in the same 
comatose state. No alteration had taken place, except 
that a deeper and sounder sleep seemed to have seized 
upon me; a symptom hailed by my physician with joy, 
but regarded by my mother with increased alarm. 

Suddenly, the incautious closing of my chamber 
door, as my sister. Miss Lucy Stanly, then in her 
fifteenth year, entered the apartment, aroused me from 
slumber and oblivion. 

Abed at noonday! What did it betoken? I endeav- 
ored to recall something of the past, but memory for a 
long time refused its aid, and I appeared as fatally and 
irremediably unconscious as ever. Gradually, however, 
my shattered mind recovered its faculties, and in less 
than an hour after my awakening, I felt perfectly re- 
stored. No pain tormented me, and no torpor benumbed 
my faculties. I rapidly reviewed, mentally, the occur- 
rences of the day before, when, as I imagined, the 
disaster had happened, and resolved at once to rise 
from my bed and prosecute my intended journey. 

At this moment my father entered the apartment. 



2 34 Caxtoii s Book. 

and observing that I was awake, ventured to speak to 
me kindly and in a very low tone. I smiled at his 
uneasiness, and immediately relieved him from all 
apprehension, by conversing freely and intelligibly of 
the late catastrophe. His delight knew no bounds. 
He seized my hand a thousand times, and pressed it 
again and again to his lips. At length, remembering 
that my mother was ignorant of my complete restora- 
tion, he rushed from the room, in order to be the first 
to convey the w^elcome intelligence. 

My bed was soon surrouwded by the whole family, 
chattering away, wild with joy, and imprinting scores 
of kisses on my lips, cheeks and forehead. The excite- 
ment proved too severe for me in my weak condition,, 
and had not the timely arrival of the physician inter- 
vened to clear my chamber of every intruder, except 
Mamma Betty, as we all called the nurse, these pages ia 
all probability would never have arrested the reader's 
eye. As it was, I suddenly grew very sick and faint; 
everything around me assumed a deep green tinge, and 
I fell into a deathlike swoon. 

Another morning's sun was shining cheerily in at 
my window, when consciousness again returned. The 
doctor was soon at my side, and instead of prescribing, 
physic as a remedy, requested my sister to sit at my 
bedside, and read in a low tone any interesting little 
story she might select. He cautioned her not to men- 
tion, even in the most casual manner, Mormonisyn, St^ 
Louis, or the Moselle, which order she most implicitly 
obeyed; nor could all my ingenuity extract a solitary 
remark in relation to either. 

My sister was not very long in making a selection; 
for, supposing what delighted herself would not fail 
to amuse me, she brought in a manuscript, carefully 



A Pair of Myths. 235 

folded, and proceeded at once to narrate its history. 
It was written by my father, as a sort of model or 
sampler for my brothers and sisters, which they were 
to imitate when composition-day came round, instead of 
"hammering away," as he called it, on moral essays 
and metaphysical commonplaces. It was styled 

THE KING OF THE NINE-PINS: A MYTH. 

Heinrich Schwarz, or Black Hal, as he was wont to 
be called, was an old toper, but he was possessed of 
infinite good humor, and related a great many very 
queer stories, the truth of which no one, that I ever 
heard of, had the hardihood to doubt; for Black Hal 
had an uncommon share of "Teutonic pluck" about 
him, and was at times very unceremonious in the display 
of it. But Hal had a weakness — it was not liquor, for 
that was his strength — which he never denied; Hal was 
too fond of nine-pins. He had told me, in confidence, 
that "many a time and oft" he had rolled incessantly 
for weeks together. I think I heard him say that he 
once rolled for a month, day and night, without stop- 
ping a single moment to eat or to drink, or even to 
catch his breath. 

I did not question his veracity at the time; but since, 
on reflection, the fact seems almost incredible; and 
were it not that this sketch might accidentally fall in 
his way, I might be tempted to show philosophically 
that such a thing could not possibly be. And 3'et I 
have read of very long fasts in my day — that, for 
instance, of Captain Kiley in the Great Sahara, and 
others, Avhich will readily occur to the reader. But I 
must not episodize, or I shall not reach my story. 

Black Hal was sitting late one afternoon in a Nine- 
Pin Alley, in the little town of Kaatskill, in the State of 



236 - Caxtoii s Book. 

New York — it is true, for he said so — when a tremen- 
dous thunder-storm invested his retreat. His com- 
panions, one by one, had left him, until, rising from 
his seat and gazing around, he discovered that he was 
alone. The alley-keeper, too, could nowhere be found, 
and the boys who were employed to set up the pins had 
disappeared with the rest. It was growing very late, 
and Hal had a long walk, and he thought it most 
prudent to get ready to start home. The lightning 
glared in at the door and windows most viA'idly, and 
the heavy thunder crashed and rumbled and roared 
louder than he had ever heard it before. The rain, 
too, now commenced to batter down tremendously, and 
just as night set in, Hal had just got ready to set out. 
Hal first felt uneasy, next unhappy, and finally miser- 
able. If he had but a boy to talk to! I'm afraid Hal 
began to grow scared. A verse that he learned in his 
boyhood, across the wide sea, came unasked into his 
mind. It always came there precisely at the time he 
did not desire its company. It ran thus: 

" Oh ! for the might of dread Odin 
The powers upon him shed, 
For a sail in the good ship Skidbladnir,* 
And a tails with Miniir's head !" t 

This verse was repeated over and over again inaud- 
ibly. Gradually, however, his voice became a little louder, 
and a little louder still, until finally poor Hal hallooed 
it vociferously forth so sonorously that it drowned the 
very thunder. He had repeated it just seventy-seven 

* The ship Skidbladnir was the property of Odin. He could sail in 
it on the most dangerous seas, and yet could fold it up and carry it in 
his pocket. 

t Mimir's head was always the companion of Odin. When he de- 
sired to know what was transpiring iu distant countries, he inquired 
of Mimir, and always received a correct reply. 



A Pair of Myths, 237 

times, when suddenly a monstrous head was thrust in 
at the door, and demanded, in a voice that sounded like 
the maelstrom, "What do you want with Odin ?" " Oh, 
nothing — nothing in the world, I thank you, sir," politely 
responded poor Hal, shaking from head to foot. Here 
the head was followed by the shoulders, arms, body and 
legs of a giant at least forty feet high. Of course he 
came in on all fours, and approached in close proximity 
to Black Hal. Hal involuntarily retreated, as far as he 
could, reciting to himself the only prayer he remem- 
bered, " Now I lay me down to sleep," etc. 

The giant did not appear desirous of pursuing Hal, 
being afraid — so Hal said — that he would draw his knife 
on him. But be the cause what it might, he seated him- 
self at the head of the nine-pin alley, and shouted, 
"Stand up !" As he did so, the nine-pins at the other 
end arose and took their places. 

" Now, sir," said he, turning again to Hal, " I'll bet 
you an ounce of your blood I can beat you rolling." 

Hal trembled again, but meekly replied, "Please, sir, 
we don't bet blood nowadays — we bet money.''' 

" Blood's my money," roared forth the giant. "Fee, 
fo, fum !" Hal tried in vain to hoist the window. 

"Will you bet?" 

" Yes, sir," said Hal; and he thought as it was only 
ail ounce, he could spare that without much danger, and 
it might a[)pease the monster's appetite. 

" Roll first!" said the giant. 

"Yes, sir," replied Hal, as he seized what he sup- 
posed to be the largest and his favorite ball. 

" What are you doing with Mimir's head?" roared 
forth the monster. 

" I beg your pardon, most humbly," began Hal, as 
he let the bloody head fall; "I did not mean any harm." 



238 Caxto7i s Book. 

"Kumble, bang-wbang !" bellowed tbe thunder, 

Hal fell on bis knees and recited most devoutly, 
" Now I lay me down," etc. 

" Koll on! roll on! I say," and tbe giant seized poor 
Hal by tbe collar and set bim on bis feet. 

He now selected a large ball, and poising it carefully 
in bis band, ran a few steps, and sent it whirling riglit 
in among tbe nine-pins; but wbat was bis astonishment 
to behold them jump lightly aside, and permit the ball 
to pass in an avenue directly through tbe middle of the 
alley. Hal shuddered. The second and third ball met 
with no better success. Odin — for Hal said it was cer- 
tainly be, as he had Mimir's head along — now grasped 
a ball and rolled it with all bis might; but long before 
it reached tbe nine-pins, the}' bad, every one of them, 
tumbled down, and lay sprawling on the alley. 

"Two spares !" said tbe giant, as he grinned most 
gleefully at poor Hal. " Get up !" and up the pins all 
stood instantly. Taking another ball, he hurled it down 
the alley, and the same result followed. "Two more 
spares !" and Odin shook liis gigantic sides wdth 
laughter. 

" I give up tbe game," whined out Hal. 

"Then you lose double," rejoined Odin. 

Hal readily consented to pay two ounces, for he 
imagined, by yielding at once, he would so much the 
sooner get rid of his grim companion. As he said so, 
Odin pulled a pair of scales out of bis coat pocket, made 
proportionably to bis own size. He poised them upon 
a beam in tbe alley, and drew forth what he denominated 
two ounces, and put them in one scale. Each ounce 
was about the size of a twenty-eight pound weight, and 
■was quite as heavy. 

"Ha! ha! ha!! Ha! ha! ha!!! Ha! ha! ha!!!!" 



A Pair of Myths. 239 

shouted the giant, as he grasped the gasping and terri- 
fied gambler. He soon rolled up his sleeves, and bound 
his arm with a pocket handkerchief. Next he drew 
forth a lancet as long as a sword, and drove the point 
into the biggest vein he could discover. Hal screamed 
and fainted. When he returned to consciousness, the 
sun was shining brightly in at the window, and the 
sweet rumbling of the balls assured him that he still lay 
where the giant left him. On rising to his feet he per- 
ceived that a large coagulum of blood had collected 
where his head rested all night, and that he could 
scarcely walk from the effects of his exhaustion. He 
returned immediately home and told his wife all that 
had occurred; and though, like some of the neighbors, 
she distrusted the tale, yet she never intimated her 
doubts to Black Hal himself. The alley-keeper assured 
me in a whisper, one day, that upon the very night fixed 
on by Hal for the adventure, he was beastly drunk, and 
had been engaged in a fight with one of his boon com- 
panions, who gave him a black eye and a bloody nose. 
But the alley -keeper was always jealous of Black Hal's 
superiority in story telling; besides, he often drank too 
much himself, and I suspect he originated the report he 
related to me in a fit of wounded pride, or drunken 
braggadocio. One thing is certain, he never ventured 
to repeat the story in the presence of Black Hal himself. 

In spite of the attention I endeavored to bestow on 
the marvelous history of Black Hal and his grim com- 
panion, my mind occasionally wandered far awa}^, and 
could only find repose in communing with her who I 
now discovered for the first time held in her own hands 
the thread of my destiny. Lucy was not blind to these 
fits of abstraction, and whenever they gained entire 
control of my attention, she would pause, lay down the 



240 Caxton s Book. 

manuscript, and threaten most seriously to discontinue 
the perusal, unless I proved a better listener. I ask no 
man's pardon for declaring that my sister was an excel- 
lent reader. Most brothers, perhaps, think the same 
of most sisters; but there icas a charm in Lucy's accent 
and a distinctness in her enunciation I have never 
heard excelled. Owing to these qualities, as much, 
perhaps, as to the strangeness of the story, I became 
interested in the fate of the drunken gambler, and when 
Lucy concluded, I was ready to exclaim, " And pray 
where is Black Hal now?" 

My thoughts took another direction, however, and I 
impatiently demanded whether or not the sample story 
had been imitated. A guilty blush assured me quite 
as satisfactorily as words could have done, that Miss 
Lucy had herself made an attempt, and I therefore 
insisted that as she had whetted and excited the appe- 
tite, it would be highly uufraternal — (particularly in my 
present very precarious condition) — that parenthesis 
settled the matter — to deny me the means of satisfying it. 

"But you'll laugh at me," timidly whispered my 
sister. 

" Of course I shall," said I, "if your catastrophe is 
half as melancholy as Black Hal's. But make haste, 
or I shall be off to St. Louis. But pray inform me, 
what is the subject of your composition?" 

"The Origin of Marriage." 

"I believe, on my soul," responded I, laughing out- 
right, "you girls never think about anything else." 

I provoked no reply, and the manuscript being un- 
folded, my sister thus attempted to elucidate 

THE ORIGIN OF MARRIAGE. 

Professor Williams having ceased his manipulations, 
my eyes involuntarily closed, and I became unconscious 



A Pair of Myths. 241 

to everything occnrring around me. There's truth in 
mesmerism, after all, thought I, and being in the clair- 
voyant state, I beheld a most beautiful comet at this 
moment emerging from the constellation Taurus, and 
describing a curve about the star Zeta, one of the 
Pleiades. Now for a trip through infinite space! and 
as this thought entered my brain, I grasped a hair in 
the tail of the comet as it whizzed by me. 

I climbed up the glittering hair until I found myself 
seated very comfortably on the comet's back, and was 
beginning to enjoy my starlit ramble exceedingly, when 
I was suddenly aroused from my meditations by the 
song of a heavenly minstrel, who, wandering from star 
to star and system to system, sang the fate of other 
worlds and other beings to those who would listen to 
his strains and grant him the rites of hospitality. As 
I approached, his tones were suddenly changed, his 
voice lowered into a deeper key, and gazing intently at 
me, or at what evidenced my presence to his sight, thus 
began : 

The flaming sword of the cherub, which had waved 
so frightfully above the gate of the garden of Eden, 
had disappeared; the angel himself was gone; and 
Adam, as he approached the spot where so lately he 
had enjoyed the delights of heaven, beheld with aston- 
ishment and regret that Paradise and all its splendors 
had departed from the earth forever. Where the gar- 
den lately bloomed, he could discover only the dark 
and smouldering embers of a conflagration; a hard lava 
had incrusted itself along the golden walks; the birds 
were flown, the flowers withered, the fountains dried 
up, and desolation brooded over the scene. 

"Ah!" sighed the patriarch of men, "where are now 
the pleasures which I once enjoyed along these peace- 
16 



242 Caxtons Book. 

ful avenues? Where are all those beautiful spirits, 
given \>y Heaven to watch over and protect me ? Each 
guardian angel has deserted me, and the rainbow- 
glories of Paradise have flown. No more the sun shines 
out in undimmed splendor, for clouds array him in 
gloom; the earth, forgetful of her verdure and her 
flowers, produces thorns to wound and frosts to chill 
me. The very air, once all balm and zephyrs, now 
howls around me with the voice of the storm and the 
fury of the hurricane. No more the notes of peace 
and happiness greet my ears, but the harsh tones of 
strife and battle resound on every side. Nature has 
kindled the flames of discord in her own bosom, and 
universal war has begun his reign!" 

And then the father of mankind hid his face in the 
bosom of his companion, and wept the bitter tears of 
contrition and repentance. 

" Oh, do not weep so bitterly, my Adam," exclaimed 
his companion. "True, we are miserable, but all is 
not yet lost; we have forfeited the smiles of Heaven, 
but we may yet regain our lost place in its affections. 
Let us learn from our misfortunes the anguish of guilt, 
but let us learn also the mercy of redemption. We 
may yet be happy." 

"Oh, talk not of happiness now," interrupted Adam; 
' ' that nymph who once waited at our side, attentive to 
the beck, has disappeared, and fled from the compan- 
ionship of such guilty, fallen beings as ourselves, 
forever." 

"Not forever, Adam," kindly rejoined Eve; "she 
may yet be lurking among these groves, or lie hid be- 
hind yon hills. " 

"Then let us find her," quickly responded Adam; 
' ' you follow the sun, sweet Eve, to his resting-place. 



A Pair of Myths. 243 

whilst I will trace these sparkling waters to their bourn. 
Let us ramble this whole creation o'er; and when we 
have found her, let us meet again on this very spot, 
and cling to her side, until the doom of death shall 
overtake us." 

And the eye of Adam beamed with hope, then kin- 
dled for the first time on earth in the bosom of man; 
and he bade Eve his first farewell, and started eastward 
in his search. 

Eve turned her face to the west, and set out on her 
allotted journey. 

The sun had shone a hundred times in midsummer 
splendor, and a hundred times had hid himself in the 
clouds of winter, and yet no human foot had trod the 
spot where the garden of Eden once bloomed. Adam 
had in vain traced the Euphrates to the sea, and climbed 
the Himalaya Mountains. In vain had he endured the 
tropical heats on the Ganges, and the winter's cold in 
Siberia. He stood at last upon the borders of that nar- 
row sea which separates Asia from America, and casting 
a wistful glance to the far-off continent, exclaimed: "In 
yon land, so deeply blue in the distance, that it looks 
like heaven, Happiness may have taken refuge. Alas ! 
I cannot pursue her there. I will return to Eden, and 
learn if Eve, too, has been unsuccessful." 

And then he took one more look at the distant land, 
sighed his adieu, and set out on his return. 

Poor Eve ! First child of misery, first daughter of 
despair ! Poor Eve, with the blue of heaven in her eye, 
and the crimson of shame upon her lip! Poor Eve, 
arrayed in beauty, but hastening to decay — she, too, 
was unsuccessful. 

Wandering in her westward way, the azure waters of 
the Mediterranean soon gleamed upon her sight. She 



244 Caxtons Book. 

stood at length upon the pebbly shore, and the glad 
waves, silent as death before, when they kissed her 
naked feet, commenced that song still heard in their 
eternal roar. A mermaid seemed to rise from the waters 
at her feet, and to imitate her every motion. Her long 
dark tresses, her deep blue eyes, her rosy cheek, her 
sorrowful look, all were reflected in the mermaid before 
her. 

"Sweet spirit," said Eve, "canst thou inform me 
where the nymph Happiness lies concealed? She always 
stood beside us in the garden of Eden; but when we 
were driven from Paradise we beheld her no more." 

The lips of the mermaid moved, but Eve could hear 
no reply. 

Ah ! mother of mankind, the crystal waters of every 
sea, reflecting thy lovely image, still faithful to their 
trust, conceal a mermaid in their bosom for every 
daughter of beauty who looks upon them ! 

Neither the orange groves of the Arno, nor the vine- 
yards of France; neither the forests of Germania, nor 
the caves of Norway, concealed the sought-for nymph. 
Eve explored them all. Her track was imprinted in the 
sands of Sahara, by the banks of the Niger, on the 
rocks of Bengola, in the vales of Abyssinia — but all in 
vain. 

* ' O Happiness ! art thou indeed departed from our 
earth ? How can we live without thee ? Come, Death," 
cried Eve; "come now, and take me where thou wilt. 
This world is a desert, for Happiness has left it 
desolate." 

A gentle slumber soon overcame the wearied child of 
sorrow, and in her sleep a vision came to comfort her. 
She dreamed that she stood before an aged man, whose 
hoary locks attested that the snows of many winters had 



A Pair of Myths. 245 

whitened them, and in whose glance she recognized the 
spirit of Wisdom. 

"Aged Father," said Eve, "where is Happiness?" 
and then she burst into a flood of tears. 

" Comfort thyself, Daughter," mildly answered the 
old man; "Happiness yet dwells on earth, but she is 
no longer visible. A temple is built for her in every 
mortal's bosom, but she never ascends her throne until 
welcomed there by the child of Honor and Love." 

The morning sun aroused Eve from her slumber, but 
did not dispel the memory of her dream. "I will re- 
turn to Eden, and there await until the child of Honor 
and Love shall enthrone in my bosom the lost nymph 
Happiness;" and saying this, she turned her face to the 
eastward, and thinking of Adam and her vision, jour- 
neyed joyfully along. 

The sun of Spring had opened the flowers and clothed 
the woods in verdure; had freed the streams from their 
icy fetters, and inspired the warbling world with har- 
mony, when two forlorn and weary travelers approached 
the banks of the river Pison; that river which had 
flowed through the garden of Eden when the first sun- 
shine broke upon the world. A hundred years had 
rolled away, and the echo of no human voice had re- 
sounded through the deserted groves. At length the 
dusky figures emerged from the overshadowing shrub- 
bery, and raised their eyes into each other's faces. One 
bound — one cry — and they weep for joy in each other's 
arms. 

Adam related his sad and melancholy story, and then 
Eve soon finished hers. But no sooner had she told 
her dream, than Adam, straining her to his bosom, 
exclaimed : 

"There is no mystery here, my Eve. If Happiness 



246 Caxtoii s Book, 

on earth be indeed the child of Honor and Love, it 
must be in Matrimony alone. What else now left us 
on earth can lay claim to the precious boon ? Approved 
by heaven, and cherished by man, in the holy bonds of 
Matrimony it must consist; and if this be all, we need 
seek no further; it is ours!" 

They then knelt in prayer, and returned thanks to 
Heaven, that though the garden of Eden was a wild, 
and the nymph Happiness no longer an angel at their 
side, yet that her spirit was still present in every 
bosom where the heart is linked to Honor and Love 
by the sacred ties of Matrimony. 




XIX. 

THE LAST OF HIS RACE, 

"VTO further can fate tempt or try me, 

With guerdon of pleasure or pain; 
Ere the noon of my life has sped by me, 

The last of my race I remain. 
To that home so long left I might journey; 

But they for whose greeting I yearn, 
Are launched on that shadowy ocean 

Whence voyagers never return. 

My life is a blank in creation, 

My fortunes no kindred may share; 
No brother to cheer desolation, 

No sister to soften by prayer; 
No father to gladden my triumphs, 

No mother my sins to atone; 
No children to lean on in dying — 

I must finish my journey alone! 

In that hall, where their feet tripp'd before me. 

How lone would now echo my tread ! 
While each fading portrait threw o'er me 

The chill, stony smile of the dead. 
One sad thought bewilders my slumbers, 

From eve till the coming of dawn : 
I cry out in visions, " Where are they ? " 

And echo responds, " They are gone!" 



248 Caxtons Book. 

But fain, ere tlie life-fount grows colder, 

I'd wend to that lone, distant place, 
That row of green hillocks, where moulder 

The rest of my early doom'd race. 
There slumber the true and the manly, 

There slumber the spotless and fair; 
And when my last journey is ended, 

My place of repose be it there ! 




XX. 

THE TWO GEORGES. 

BETWEEN the years of our Lord 1730 and 1740, 
two men were born on opposite sides of the Atlan- 
tic Ocean, whose lives were destined to exert a com- 
manding influence on the age in which they lived, as 
well as to control the fortunes of many succeeding gen- 
erations. 

One was by birth a plain peasant, the son of a Vir- 
ginia farmer; the other an hereditary Prince, and the 
heir of an immense empire. It will be the main object 
of this sketch to trace the histories of these two indi- 
viduals, so dissimilar in their origin, from birth to 
death, and show how it happened that one has left a 
name synonymous with tyranny, whilst the other will 
descend to the latest posterity, radiant with immortal 
glory, and renowned the world over as the friend of 
virtue, the guardian of liberty, and the benefactor of his 
race. 

Go with me for one moment to the crowded and 
splendid metropolis of England. It is the evening of 
the 4th of June, 1734. Some joyful event must have 
occurred, for the bells are ringing merrily, and the in- 
habitants are dressed in holiday attire. Nor is the cir- 
cumstance of a private nature, for banners are every- 
where displayed, the vast city is illuminated, and a 
thousand cannon are proclaiming it from their iron 



250 Caxtoii s Book. 

throats. The population seem frantic with joy, and 
rush tumultuously into each other's arms, in token of a 
national jubilee. Tens of thousands are hurrying along 
toward a splendid marble pile, situated on a command- 
ing eminence, near the river Thames, whilst from the 
loftiest towers of St. James's Palace the national ensigns 
of St. George and the Eed Cross are seen floating on 
the breeze. Within one of the most gorgeously fur- 
nished apartments of that royal abode, the wife of 
Frederic, Prince of Wales, and heir apparent to the 
British Empire, has just been delivered of a son. The 
scions of royalty crowd into the bed-chamber, and 
solemnly attest the event as one on which the destiny of 
a great empire is suspended. The corridors are thronged 
with dukes, and nobles, and soldiers, and courtiers^ all 
anxious to bend the supple knee, and bow the willing 
neck, to power just cradled into the world. A Royal 
Proclamation soon follows, commemorating the event, 
and commanding British subjects everywhere, who 
acknowledge the honor of Brunswick, to rejoice, and 
give thanks to God for safely ushering into existence 
George William Frederic, heir presumptive of the united 
crowns of Great Britain and Ireland. Just twenty-two 
years afterward that child ascended the throne of his 
ancestors as King George the Third. 

Let us now turn our eyes to the Western Continent, 
and contemplate a scene of similar import, but under 
circumstances of a totally different character. It is the 
22d February, 1732. The locality is a distant colony, 
the spot the verge of an immense, untrodden and unex- 
plored wilderness, the habitation a log cabin, with its 
chinks filled in with clay, and its sloping roof patched 
over with clapboards. Snow covers the ground, and a 
chill wintery wind is drifting the flakes, and moaning 



The Tzvo Geo7'ges. 251 

through the forest. Two immense chimneys stand at 
either end of the house, and give promise of cheerful 
comfort and primitive hospitality within, totally in con- 
trast with external nature. There are but four small 
rooms in the dwelling, in one of which Mary Ball, the 
wife of Augustine Washington, has just given birth to 
a son. No dukes or marquises or earls are there to 
attest the humble event. There are no princes of the 
blood to wrap the infant in the insignia of royalty, and 
fold about his limbs the tapestried escutcheon of a 
kingdom. His first breath is not drawn in the center 
of a mighty capitol, the air laden with perfume, and 
trembling to the tones of soft music and the "murmurs 
of low fountains." But the child is received from its 
mother's womb by hands imbrowned with honest labor, 
and laid upon a lowly couch, indicative only of a back- 
woodsman's home and an American's inheritance. He, 
too, is christened George, and forty-three years after- 
ward took command of the American forces assembled 
on the plains of old Cambridge. 

But if their births were dissimilar, their rearing and 
education were still more unlike. From his earliest 
recollection the Prince heard only the language of flat- 
tery, moved about from palace to palace, just as caprice 
dictated, slept upon the cygnet's down, and grew up in 
indolence, self-will and vanity, a dictator from his cradle. 
The peasant boy, on the other hand, was taught from 
his infancy that labor was honorable, and hardships in- 
dispensable to vigorous health. He early learned to 
sleep alone amid the dangers of a boundless wilderness, 
a stone for his pillow, and the naked sod his bed; 
whilst the voices of untamed nature around him sang 
his morning and his evening hymns. Truth, courage 
and constancy were early implanted in his mind by a 



252 Caxton s Book. 

inotlier's counsels, and the important lesson of life was 
taught by a father's example, that when existence ceases 
to be useful it ceases to be happy. 

Early manhood ushered them both into active life; 
the one as king over extensive dominions, the other as 
a modest, careful, and honest district surveyor. 

Having traced the two Georges to the threshold of 
their career, let us now proceed one step further, and 
take note of the first great public event in the lives of 
either. 

For a long time preceding the year 1753 the French 
had laid claim to all the North American continent 
west of the Alleghany Mountains, stretching in an un- 
broken line from Canada to Louisiana. The English 
strenuously denied this right, and when the French 
commandant on the Ohio, in 1753, commenced erecting 
a fort near where the present city of Pittsburg stands, 
and proceeded to capture certain English traders, and 
expel them from the country, Dinwiddle, Governor of 
Virginia, deemed it necessary to dispatch an agent on a 
diplomatic visit to the French commandant, and demand 
by what authority he acted, by what title he claimed 
the country, and order him immediately to evacuate the 
territory. 

George Washington, then only in his twenty-second 
year, was selected by the Governor for this important 
mission. 

It is unnecessary to follow him, in all his perils, dur- 
ing his wintery march through the wilderness. The 
historian of his life has painted in imperishable colors 
his courage, his sagacity, his wonderful coolness in the 
midst of danger, and the success which crowned his 
undertaking. The memory loves to follow him through 
the trackless wilds of the forest, accompanied by only 



The Two Georges. 253 

a single companion, and making bis way through wintery 
snows, in the midst of hostile savages and wild beasts, 
for more than five hundred miles, to the residence of 
the French commander. How often do we not shud- 
der, as we behold the treacherous Indian guide, on his 
return, deliberately raising his rifle, and leveling it at 
that majestic form; thus endeavoring, by an act of 
treachery and cowardice, to deprive Virginia of her 
young hero! And oh! with what fervent prayers do 
we not implore a kind Providence to watch over his 
desperate encounter with the floating ice, at midnight, 
in the swollen torrent of the Alleghany, and rescue him 
from the wave and the storm. Standing bareheaded on 
the frail raft, whilst in the act of dashing aside some 
floating ice that threatened to ingulf him, the treacher- 
ous oar was broken in his hand, and he is precipitated 
many feet into the boiling current. Save! oh, save 
him heaven! for the destinies of millions yet unborn 
hang upon that noble arm ! 

Let us now recross the ocean. In the early part of 
the year 1764 a ministerial crisis occurs in England, 
and Lord Bute, the favorite of the British monarch, is 
driven from the administration of the government. The 
troubles with the American colonists have also just com- 
menced to excite attention, and the young King grows 
angry, perplexed, and greatly irritated. A few days 
after this, a rumor starts into circulation that the mon- 
arch is sick. His attendants look gloomy, his friends 
terrified, and even his physicians exhibit symptoms of 
doubt and danger. Yet he has no fever, and is daily 
observed walking with uncertain and agitated step along 
the corridors of the palace. His conduct becomes 
gradually more and more strange, until doubt gives 
place to certainty, and the royal medical staff report to 



2 54 Caxto7i s Book. 

a select committee of the House of Commons that the 
King is threatened with insanity. For six weeks the 
cloud obscures his mental faculties, depriving him of 
all interference with the administration of the govern- 
ment, and betokening a sad disaster in the future. His 
reason is finally restored, but frequent fits of passion, 
pride and obstinacy indicate but too surely that the 
disease is seated, and a radical cure impossible. 

Possessed now of the chief characteristics of George 
Washington and George Guelph, we are prepared to 
review briefly their conduct during the struggle that 
ensued between the two countries they respectively 
represented. 

Let us now refer to the first act of disloyalty of 
Washington, the first indignant spurn his high-toned 
spirit evinced under the oppressions of a king. 

Not long after his return from the west, Washington 
w^as offered the chief command of the forces about to 
be raised in Virginia, to expel the French; but, with 
his usual modesty, he declined the appointment, on 
account of his extreme youth, but consented to take 
the post of lieutenant-colonel. Shortly afterward, on 
the death of Colonel Fry, he was promoted to the chief 
command, but through no solicitations of his own. 
Subsequently^ when the war between France and Eng- 
land broke out in Europe, the principal seat of hostili- 
ties was transferred to America, and his Gracious 
Majesty George III sent over a large body of troops, 
under the command of favorite officers. But this was not 
enough. An edict soon followed, denominated an " Or- 
der to settle the rank of the oflicers of His Majesty's 
forces serving in America." By one of the articles of 
this order, it was provided "that all officers commis- 
sioned by the King, should take precedence of those of 



The Tzvo Georges. 255 

the same grade commissioned by the governors of the 
respective colonies, although their commissions might 
be of junior date;" and it was further provided, that 
"when the troops served together, the provincial offi- 
cers should enjoy no rank at all." This order was 
scarcely promulgated — indeed, before the ink was dry 
— ere the Governor of Virginia received a communica- 
tion informing him that George Washington teas 110 longer 
a soldier. Entreaties, exhortations, and threats were 
all lavished upon him in vain; and to those who, in 
their expostulations, spoke of the defenseless frontiers 
of his native State, he patriotically but nobly replied : 
"I will serve my country when I can do so without 
dishonor." 

In contrast with this attitude of Washington, look at 
the conduct of George the Third respecting the colo- 
nies, after the passage of the Stamp Act. This act was 
no sooner proclaimed in America, than the most violent 
opposition was manifested, and combinations for the 
purpose of effectual resistance were rapidly organized 
from Massachusetts to Georgia. The leading English 
patriots, among whom were Burke and Barre, protested 
against the folly of forcing the colonies into rebellion, 
and the city of London presented a petition to the King, 
praying him to dismiss the Granville ministry, and re- 
peal the obnoxious act. "It is with the utmost aston- 
ishment," replied the King, " that I find any of my sub- 
jects capable of encouraging the rebellious disposition 
that unhappily exists in some of my North American 
colonies. Having entire confidence in the wisdom of 
my parliament, the great council of the realm, I will 
steadily pursue those measures which they have recom- 
mended for the support of the constitutional rights of 
Great Britain." He heeded not the memorable words 



256 Caxtoii s Book. 

of Burke, that afterward became prophetic. "There 
are moments," exclaimed this great statesman, " critical 
moments in the fortunes of all states, when they who- 
are too weak to contribute to your j^rosperity may yet 
be strong enough to complete your ruin." The Boston 
port bill passed, and the first blood was spilt at Lex- 
ington. 

It is enough to say of the long and bloody war that 
followed, that George the Third, by his obstinacy, con- 
tributed more than any other man in his dominion to 
prolong the struggle, and afiix to it the stigma of cruelty, 
inhumanity and vengeance ; whilst Washington was 
equally the soul of the conflict on the other side, and by 
his imperturbable justice, moderation and firmness, did 
more than by his arms to convince England that her 
revolted colonists were invincible. 

It is unnecessary to review in detail the old [Revolu- 
tion. Let us pass to the social position of the two 
Georges in after-life. 

On the 2d August, 1786, as the King was alighting 
from his carriage at the gate of St. James, an attempt 
was made on his life by a woman named Margaret 
Nicholson, who, under pretense of presenting a petition, 
endeavored to stab him with a knife which was con- 
cealed in the paper. The weapon was an old one, and 
so rusty that, on striking the vest of the King, it bent 
double, and thus preserved his life. On the 29th Oc- 
tober, 1795, whilst his majesty was proceeding to the 
House of Lords, a ball passed through both windows of 
the carriage. On his return to St. James the mob- 
threw stones into the carriage, several of which struck 
the King, and one lodged in the cuff of his coat. The 
state carriage was completely demolished by the mob. 
But it was on the 15th May, 1800, that George the-- 



The Two Georges. 257 

Third made his narrowest escapes. In the morning of 
that daj, whilst attending the field exercise of a bat- 
talion of guards, one of the soldiers loaded his piece 
with a bullet and discharged it at the King. The ball 
fortunately missed its aim, and lodged in the thigh of a 
gentleman who was standing in the rear. In the even- 
ing of the same day a more alarming circumstance oc- 
curred at the Drury Lane Theatre. At the moment when 
the King entered the royal box, a man in the pit, on the 
right-hand side of the orchestra, suddenly stood up and 
discharged a large horse-pistol at him. The hand of 
the would-be assassin was thrown up by a bystander, 
and the ball entered the box just above the head of the 
King. 

Such were the public manifestations of affection for 
this royal tyrant. He was finally attacked by an enemy 
that could not be thwarted, and on the 20th December, 
1810, he became a confirmed lunatic. In this dreadful 
condition he lingered until January, 1820, when ho 
died, having been the most unpopular, unwise and 
obstinate sovereign that ever disgraced the English 
throne. He was forgotten as soon as life left his body, 
and was hurriedly buried with that empty pomp Avhich 
but too often attends a despot to the grave. 

His whole career is well summed up by Allan Cun- 
ningham, his biographer, in few words: "Throughout 
his life he manifested a strong disposition to be his 
own minister, and occasionally placed the kingly pre- 
rogatives in perilous opposition to the resolutions of 
the nation's representatives. His interference with the 
deliberations of the upper house, as in the case of 
Fox's Indian bill, was equally ill-judged and dangerous. 
The separation of America from the mother country, at the 
time it took place, was the result of the King's personal feel- 
17 



258 Caxton s Book. 

ings and interference ivith the ministry. The war with 
France was, in part at least, attributable to the views 
and wishes of the sovereign of England. His obstinate 
refusal to grant any concessions to his Catholic sub- 
jects, kept his cabinet perpetually hanging on the brink 
of dissolution, and threatened the dismemberment of the 
kingdom. He has been often praised for firmness, but 
it was in too many instances the firmness of obstinacy; 
a dogged adherence to an opinion once pronounced, or 
a resolution once formed." 

The mind, in passing from the unhonored grave of the 
prince to the last resting-place of the peasant boy, leaps 
from a kingdom of darkness to one of light. 

Let us now return to the career of Washington. 
Throughout the Bevolutiouary War he carried, like 
Atropos, in his hand the destinies of millions; he bore, 
like Atlas, on his shoulders the weight of a world. It 
is unnecessary to follow him throughout his subsequent 
career. Honored again and again by the people of the 
land he had redeemed from thraldom, he has taken his 
place in death by the side of the wisest and best of the 
world's benefactors. Assassins did not unglory him in 
life, nor has oblivion drawn her mantle over him in 
death. The names of his great battle-fields have become 
Bursery words, and his principles have imbedded them- 
selves forever in the national character. Every pulsa- 
tion of our hearts beats true to his memory. His 
mementoes are everywhere around and about us. Dis- 
tant as we are from the green fields of his native 
Westmoreland, the circle of his renown has spread far 
beyond our borders. In climes where the torch of 
science was never kindled; on shores still buried in 
primeval bloom; amongst barbarians where the face of 
liberty was never seen, the Christian missionary of 



The Two Georges. 259 

America, roused perhaps from his holy duties by the 
distant echo of the national salute, this day thundering 
amidst the billows of every sea, or dazzled by the gleam 
of his country's banner, this day floating in every wind 
of heaven, pauses over his task as a Christian, and 
whilst memory kindles in his bosom the fires of patriot- 
ism, pronounces in the ear of the enslaved pagan the 
venerated name of Washington ! 

Nor are the sons of the companions of Washington 
alone in doing justice to his memory. Our sisters, 
wives and mothers compete with us in discharging this 
debt of national gratitude. With a delicacy that none 
but woman could exhibit, and with a devotion that none 
but a daughter could feel, they are now busy in execut- 
ing the noble scheme of purchasing his tomb, in order 
for endless generations to stand sentinel over his re- 
mains. Take them ! take them to your hearts, oh ! ye 
daughters of America; enfold them closer to your bosom 
than your first-born offspring; build around them a 
mausoleum that neither time nor change can overthrow; 
for within them germinates the seeds of liberty for the 
benefit of millions yet unborn. Wherever tyranny shall 
lift its Medusan head, wherever treason shall plot its 
hellish schemes, wherever disunion shall unfurl its 
tattered ensign, there, oh there, sow them in the hearts 
of patriots and republicans ! For from these pale ashes 
there shall spring, as from the dragon's teeth sown by 
Cadmus of old on the plains of Heber, vast armies of 
invincible heroes, sworn upon the altar and tomb at 
Mount Vernon, to live as freemen, or as such to die ! 



XXI. 

MASONRY. 

/^H, sacred spirit of Masonic love, 

^-^ Offspring of Heaven, the angels' bond above. 

Guardian of peace and every social tie. 

How deep the sources of thy fountains he! 

How wide the realms that 'neath thy wings expand. 

Embracing every clime, encircling every land! 

Beneath the aurora of the Polar skies. 
Where Greenland's everlasting glaciers rise. 
The Lodge mysterious lifts its snow-built dome, 
And points the brother to a sunnier home; 
"Where Nilus slays the sacrificial kid, 
Beneath the shadow of her pyramid. 
Where magian suns unclasp the gaping ground, 
And far Austi'alia's golden sands abound; 
Where breakers thunder on the coral strand. 
To guard the gates of Kamehameha's land; 
Wherever man, in lambskin garb arrayed. 
Strikes in defense of innocence betrayed; 
Lifts the broad shield of charity to all. 
And bends in anguish o'er a brother's fall; 
Where the bright symbol of Masonic truth. 
Alike for high and low, for age or youth, 
Flames like yon sun at tropic midday's call, 
And opes the universal eye on all! 
What though in secret all your alms be done, 
Your foes all vanquished and your trophies won ? 
What though a veil be o'er your Lodges thrown. 
And brother only be to brother known ? 



Masonry. 261 

In secret, God built up the rolling world; 
In secret, morning's banners are unfurled; 
In secret, spreads the leaf, unfolds the flower, 
Bevolve the spheres, and speeds the passing hour. 
The day is noise, confusion, strife, turmoil, 
Struggles for bread, and sweat beneath the toil. 
The night is silence — progress without jars, 
The rest of mortals and the march of stars! 
The day for work to toiling man was given; 
But night, to lead his erring steps to Heaven. 
All hail ! ye brethren of the mystic tie ! 
Who feed the hungry, heed the orphan's cry; 
Who clothe the naked, dry the widow's tear, 
Befriend the exile, bear the stranger's bier; 
Stand round the bedside when the fluttering soul 
Bursts her clay bonds and parteth for her goal; 
God speed you in the noble path you tread. 
Friends of the living, mourners.o'er the dead. 

May all your actions, measured on the square, 

Be just and righteous, merciful and fair; 

Your thoughts flow pure, in modesty of mind, 

Along the equal level of mankind; 

Your words be troweled to truth's perfect tone, 

Your fame be chiseled in unblemished stone. 

Your hearts be modeled on the plummet's line, 

Your faith be guided by the Book divine; 

And when at last the gavel's beat above 

Calls you from labor to the feast of love, 

May mighty Boaz, pillar'd at that gate 

Which seraphs tyle and where archangels wait. 

Unloose the bandage from your dazzled eyes, 

Spell out the Password to Arch-Royal skies; 

Upon your bosom set the signet steel. 

Help's sign disclose, and Friendship's grip reveal; 

Place in your grasp the soul's unerring rod. 

And light you to the Temple of your God! 



H 



XXII. 

POLLOCK'S EUTHANASIA. 

E is gone ! the young, and gifted ! 
By his own strong pinions lifted 
To the stars; 



Where he strikes, with minstrels olden, 
Choral harps, whose strings are golden, 
Deathless bars. 

There, with Homer's ghost all hoary, 
Not with years, but fadeless glory, 
Lo! he stands; 

And through that open portal. 
We behold the bards immortal 

Clasping hands! 

Hark! how Rome's great epic master 
Sings, that death is no disaster 
To the wise; 

Fame on earth is but a menial. 
But it reigns a king perennial 

In the skies! 

Albion's blind old bard heroic, 
Statesman, sage, and Christian stoic. 
Greets his son; 

Whilst in pseans wild and glorious. 
Like his " Paradise victorious," 

Sings, Well done! 



Pollock's Euthanasia, 26 

Lo ! a bard with forehead pendent, 
But with glory's beams resplendent 
As a star; 

Slow descends from regions higher, 
With a crown and golden lyre 
In his car. 

All aroiind him, crowd as minions, 
Thrones and sceptres, and dominions, 
Kings and Queens; 

Ages past and ages present. 
Lord and dame, and prince and peasant. 
His demesnes! 

Approach! young bard hesperian. 
Welcome to the heights empyrean, 

Thou did'st sing. 

Ere yet thy trembling fingers 
Struck where fame immortal lingers. 
In the string. 

Kneel ! I am the bard of Avon, 
And the Realm of song in Heaven 
Is my own; 

Long thy verse shall live in story, 

And thy Lyre I crown with glory. 

And a throne! 



o 



XXIII. 

SCIENCE, LITERATURE AND ART DURING THE 
FIRST HALF OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 

LOOKING back into the past, and exploring by the 
light of authentic history, sacred as well as pro- 
fane, the characteristics of former ages, the merest 
tyro in learning cannot fail to perceive that certain 
epochs stand prominently out on the "sands of time," 
and indicate vast activity and uncommon power in the 
human mind. 

These epochs are so well marked that history has 
given them a designation, and to call them by their 
name, conjures up, as by the wand of an enchanter, the 
heroic representatives of our race. 

If, for instance, we should speak of the era of Solo- 
mon, in sacred history, the memory would instantly 
picture forth the pinnacles of the Holy Temple, lifting 
themselves into the clouds; the ear would listen intently 
to catch the sweet intonations of the harp of David, 
vocal at once with the prophetic sorrows of his race, and 
swelling into sublime ecstasy at the final redemption of 
his people; the eye would glisten at the pomp and 
pageantry of the foreign potentates who thronged his 
court, and gloat with rapture over the beauty of the 
young Queen of Sheba, who journeyed from a distant 
land to seek wisdom at the feet of the wisest monarch 
that ever sat upon a throne. We should behold his 
ships traversing every sea, and pouring into the lap of 



Scie7icej Literahire and Art. 265 

Israel the gold of Opliir, the ivory of Senegambia, and 
the silks, myrrli, and spices of the East. 

So, too, has profane history its golden ages, when 
men all seemed to be giants, and their minds inspired. 

What is meant when we speak of the age of Pericles? 
We mean all that is glorious in the annals of Greece. 
We mean Apelles with his peucil, Phidias with his 
chisel, Alci blades with his sword. We seem to be 
strolling arm-in-arm with Plato, into the academy, to 
listen to the divine teachings of Socrates, or hurrying 
along with the crowd toward the theatre, Avhere Herod- 
otus is reading his history, or Euripides is presenting 
his tragedies. Aspasia rises up like a beautiful appa- 
rition before us, and we follow willing slaves at the 
wheels of her victorious chariot. The whole of the 
Peloponnesus glows with intellect like a forge in blast, 
and scatters the trophies of Grecian civilization pro- 
fusely around us. The Parthenon lifts its everlasting 
columns, and the Venus and Apollo are moulded into 
marble immortality. 

Eome had her Augustan age, an era of poets, philos- 
ophers, soldiers, statesmen, and orators. Crowded into 
contemporary life, we recognize the greatest general of 
the heathen world, the greatest poet, the greatest orator, 
and the greatest statesman of Rome. Csesar and Cicero, 
Virgil and Octavius, all trod the pavement of the cap- 
itol together, and lent their blended glory to immortalize 
the Augustan age. 

Italy and Spain and Prance and England have had 
their golden age. The eras of Lorenzo the Magnificent, 
of Ferdinand and Isabella, of Louis Quatorze and of 
Elizabeth, can never be forgotten. They loom up from 
the surrounding gloom like the full moon bursting upon 
the sleeping seas; irradiating the night, clothing the 



266 Caxtoii s Book. 

meanest wave in sparkling silver, and dimming tlie lus- 
tre of the brightest stars. History has also left in its 
track mementoes of a different character. In sacred 
history we have the age of Herod; in profane, the age 
of Nero. We recognize at a glance the talismanic touch 
of the age of chivalry, and the era of the Crusades, and 
mope our way in darkness and gloom along that opaque 
track, stretching from the reign of Justinian, in the 
sixth century, to the reign of Edward the Third, in the 
fourteenth, and known throughout Christendom as the 
"Dark Ages," Let us noAV take a survey of the field 
we occupy, and ascertain, if possible, the category in 
which our age shall be ranked by our posterity. 

But before proceeding to discuss the characteristics 
of our epoch, let us define more especially what that 
epoch embraces. 

It does not embrace the American nor the French 
Kevolution, nor does it include the acts or heroes of 
either. The impetus given to the human mind by the 
last half of the eighteenth century, must be carefully 
distinguished from the impulses of the first half of the 
nineteenth. The first was an era of almost universal 
war, the last of almost uninterrupted peace. The dying 
ground-swell of the waves after a storm belong to the 
tempest, not to the calm which succeeds. Hence the 
wars of Napoleon, the literature and art of his epoch, 
must be excluded from observation, in properly discuss- 
ing the true characteristics of our era. 

De Stael and Goethe and Schiller and Byron; Pitfc 
and Nesselrode, Metternich and Hamilton; Ficlite and 
Stewart and Brown and Cousin; Canova, Thorwaldsen 
and La Place, though all dying since the beginning of 
this century, belong essentially to a former era. They 
were the ripened fruits of that grand uprising of the 



Science, Literature and Art. 267 

human mind which first took form on the 4th day of 
July, 1776. Our era properly commences with the 
downfall of the first Napoleon, and none of the events 
connected therewith, either before or afterward, can 
be philosophically classed in the epoch we represent, 
but must be referred to a former period. Ages hence, 
then, the philosophic critic will thus describe the first 
half of the nineteenth century: 

"The normal state of Christendom was peace. The 
age of steel that immediately went before it had passed. 
It was the Iron age. 

"Speculative philosophy fell asleep; literature de- 
clined; Skepticism bore sway in religion, politics, and 
morals; Utility became the universal standard of right 
and wrong, and the truths of every science and the 
axioms of every art were ruthlessly subjected to the 
experimenium crucis. Everything was liable to revision. 
The verdicts pronounced in the olden time against Mo- 
hammed and Mesmer and Bobespierre were set aside, 
and a new trial granted. The ghosts of Roger Bacon 
and Emanuel Swedenborg were summoned from the 
Stygian shore to plead their causes anew before the bar 
of public opinion. The head of Oliver Cromwell was 
ordered down from the gibbet, the hump was smoothed 
down on the back of Richard III, and the sentence pro- 
nounced by Urban VIII against the 'starry Galileo' 
reversed forever. Aristotle was decently interred be- 
neath a modern monument inscribed thus: 'In pace 
reqniescat ;"" whilst Francis Bacon was rescued from the 
sacrilegious hands of kings and peers and parliament, 
and canonized by the unanimous consent of Christen- 
dom. It was the age of tests. Experiment governed 
the world. Germany led the van, and Humboldt be- 
came the impersonation of his times." 



2 68 Caxton s Book. 

Such uDquestionablj will be the verdict of the future, 
"wheu the present time, with all its treasures and trash, 
its hopes and realizations, shall have been safely shelved 
and labeled amongst the musty records of bygone gen- 
erations. 

Let us now examine into the grounds of this verdict 
more minutely, and test its accuracy by exemplifications. 

I. And first, who believes now in innate ideas? Locke 
has been completely superseded by the materialists of 
Germany and France, and all speculative moral phi- 
losophy exploded. The audiences of Edinburgh and 
Brown University interrupt Sir William Hamilton and 
Dr. Wayland in their discourses, and, stripping off the 
plumage f}'om their theses, inquisitively demand, " Cni 
bono?" What is the use of all this? How can we apply 
it to the every-day concerns of life? We ask you for 
bread and you have given us a stone; and though that 
stone be a diamond, it is valueless, except for its glitter. 
No philosopher can speculate successfully or even satis- 
factorily to himself, when he is met at every turn by 
some vulgar intruder into the domains of Aristotle and 
Kant, who clips his wings just as he was prepared to 
soar into the heavens, by an offer of copartnership to 
"speculate," it may be, in the price of pork. Hence, 
no moral philosopher of our day has been enabled to 
erect any theory which will stand the assaults of logic 
for a moment. Each school rises for an instant to the 
surface, and sports out its little day in toss and tribu- 
lation, until the next wave rolls along, with foam on 
its crest and fury in its roar, and overwhelms it forever. 
As with its predecessor, so with itself. 

"The eterniil surge 
Of Time and Tide rolls on and bears afar 
Their bubbles: as the old burst, new emerge, 
Lashed from the foam of afres." 



Science, Lite^'ature and Art. 269 

II. But I have stated that this is an age of literary 
decline. It is true that more books are written and 
published, more newspapers aud periodicals printed 
aud circulated, more extensive libraries collected and 
incorporated, and more ink indiscriminately spilt, than 
at any former period of the world's history. In look- 
ing about us we are forcibly reminded of the sarcastic 
couplet of Pope, who complains — 

" That those who cannot write, and those who can, 
All scratch, all ecrawl, and scribble to a man." 

Had a modern gentleman all the eyes of Argus, all the 
hands of Briareus, all the wealth of Croesus, and lived 
to the age of Methuselah, his eyes would all fail, his 
fingers all tire, his money all give out, and his years 
come to an end, long before he perused one tenth of 
the annual product of the press of Christendom at the 
present day. It is no figure of rhetoric to say that the 
press groans beneath the burden of its labors. Could 
the types of Leipsic and London, Paris and New York, 
speak out, the Litany would have to be amended, and 
a new article added, to which they would solemnly 
respond: "Spare us, good Lord !" 

A recent publication furnishes the following statis- 
tical facts relating to the book trade in our OAvn 
country: "Books have multiplied to such an extent 
in the United States that it now takes 750 paper-mills, 
with 2000 engines in constant operation, to supply the 
printers, who work day and night, endeavoring to keep 
their engagements with publishers. These tireless 
mills produce 270,000,000 pounds of paper every year. 
It requires a pound and a quarter of old rags for one 
pound of paper, thus 340,000,000 pounds of rags were 
consumed in this way last year. There are about 300 
publishers in the United States, and near 10,000 book- 



270 Caxtoii s Book, 

sellers who are engaged iu the task of dispensing 
literary pabulum to the public." 

It may appear somewhat paradoxical to assert that 
literature is declining whilst books and authors are 
multiplying to such a fearful extent. Byron wrote : 

" 'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print; 
A book 's a book, although there 's nothing in 't." 

True enough; but books are not always literature. 
A man may become an author without ceasing to be 
an ignoramus. His name may adorn a title-page with- 
out being recorded i/i cere 'perenne. He may attempt 
to write himself up a very "lion" in literature, whilst 
good master Slender may be busily engaged "in writing 
him down an ass." 

Not one book in a thousand is a success; not one 
success in ten thousand wreathes the fortunate author 
with the laurel crown, and lifts him up into the region 
of the immortals. Tell me, ye who prate about the 
literary glory of the nineteenth century, wherein it con- 
sists? Whose are 

" The great, the immortal names 
That were not born to die ?" 

I cast my eyes up the long yista toward the Temple 
of Fame, and I behold hundreds of thousands pressing 
on to reach the shining portals. They jostle each other 
by the way, they trip, they fall, they are overthrown 
and ruthlessly trampled into oblivion, by the giddy 
throng, as they rush onward and upward. One, it 
may be two, of the million who started out, stand 
trembling at the threshold, and with exultant voices cry 
aloud for admittance. One perishes before the sum- 
mons can be answered; and the other, awed into im- 
mortality by the august presence into which he enters, 
is transformed into imperishable stone. 



Science, Literature aiid Art. 271 

Let us carefully scau tlie rolls of the literature of our 
era, and select, if we can, poet, orator, or philosopher , 
whose fame will deepen as it runs, and brighten as it 
burns, until future generations shall drink at the foun- 
tain and be refreshed, and kindle their souls at the 
vestal flame and be purified, illuminated and ennobled. 

In poetry, aye, in the crowded realms of song, who 
bears the sceptre ? — who wears the crown ? America, 
England, France and Germany can boast of bards hy 
ike gross, and rhyme by the acre, but not a single poet. 
The poeta nascitur is not here. He may be on his way 
— and I have heard that he was — but this generation 
must pass before he arrives. Is he in America? If 
so, which is he ? Is it Poe, croaking sorrowfully with 
his "Eaven," or Willis, cooing sweetly with his 
"Dove"? Is it Bryant, with his " Thanatopsis," or 
Prentice, with his ' ' Dirge to the Dead Year " ? Per- 
haps it is Holmes, with his "Lyrics," or Longfellow, 
with his "Idyls." Alas! is it not self-evident that we 
have no poet, when it is utterly impossible to discover 
any two critics in the land who can find him ? 

True, we have lightning-bugs enough, but no star; 
foot-hills, it may be, in abundance, but no Mount 
Shasta, with its base built upon the everlasting granite, 
and its brow bathed in the eternal sunlight. 

In England, Tennyson, the Laureate, is the spokesman 
of a clique, the pet poet of a princely circle, whose 
rhymes flow with the docility and harmony of a limpid 
brook, but never stun like Niagara, nor rise into sub- 
limity like the storm-swept sea. 

Be'ranger, the greatest poet of France of our era, was 
a mere song-writer; and Heine, the pride of young Ger- 
many, a mere satirist and lyrist. Freiligrath can never 
rank with Goethe or Schiller; and Victor Hugo never 



272 Caxton s Book. 

attain the heights trodden by Racine, Corneille, or 
Boileau. 

In oratory, where shall we find the compeer of Chat- 
ham or Mirabeau, Burke or Patrick Henry? I have 
not forgotten Peel and Gladstone, nor Lamartine and 
Count Cavour, nor Sargent S. Prentiss and Daniel 
"Webster. But Webster himself, by far the greatest 
intellect of all these, was a mere debater, and the 
spokesman of a party. He was an eloquent speaker, 
but can never rank as an orator with the rhetoricians of 
the last century. 

And in philosophy and general learning, where shall 
we find the equal of that burly old bully, Dr. Sam 
Johnson ? and yet Johnson, with all his learning, was 
a third-rate philosopher. 

In truth, the greatest author of our era was a mere 
essayist. Beyond all controversy, Thomas Babington 
Macaulay was the most polished writer of our times. 
With an intellect acute, logical and analytic; with an 
imagination glowing and rich, but subdued and under 
perfect control; with a style so clear and limpid and 
concise, that it has become a ^standard for all who aim 
to follow in the path he trod, and with a learning so full 
and exact, and exhaustive, that he was nicknamed, when 
an undergraduate, the " Omniscient Macaulay;" he still 
lacks the giant grasp of thought, the bold originality, 
and the intense, earnest enthusiasm which characterize 
the master-spirits of the race, and identif}^ them with 
the eras they adorn. 

III. As in literature, so in what have been denomi- 
nated by scholars the Fine Arts. The past fifty year& 
has not produced a painter, sculptor, or composer, who 
ranks above mediocrity in their respective vocations. 
Canova and Thorwaldsen were the last of their race;, 



Science^ Literature and Art. 273 

Sir Joshua Reynolds left no successor, and the immor- 
tal Beethoven has been superseded by negro minstrelsy 
and senseless pantomime. The greatest architect of 
the age is a railroad contractor, and the first dramatist 
a cobbler of French farces. 

IV. But whilst the highest faculty of the mind — the 
imagination — has been left uncultivated, and has pro- 
duced no worthy fruit, the next highest, the casual, or 
the one that deals with causes and effects, has been 
stimulated into the most astonishing fertility. 

Our age ignores fancy, and deals exclusively with 
fact. Within its chosen range it stands far, very far 
pre-eminent over all that have preceded it. It reaps 
the fruit of Bacon's labors. It utilizes all that it touches. 
It stands thoughtfully on the field of Waterloo, and 
estimates scientifically the manuring properties of bones 
and blood. It disentombs the mummy of Thotmes II, 
sells the linen bandages for the manufacture of paper, 
burns the asphaltum-soaked body for firewood, and 
plants the pint of red wheat found in his sarcophagus, 
to try an agricultural experiment. It deals in no sen- 
timentalities; it has no appreciation of the sublime. 
It stands upon the ocean shore, but with its eyes fixed 
on the yellow sand searching for gold. It confronts 
Niagara, and, gazing with rapture at its misty shroud, 
exclaims, in an ecstasy of admiration, ' ' Lord, what a 
place to sponge a coat!" Having no soul to save, it 
has no religion to save it. It has discovered that 
Mohammed was a great benefactor of his race, and that 
Jesus Christ was, after all, a mere man ; distinguished, 
it is true, for his benevolence, his fortitude and his 
morality, but for nothing else. It does not believe in 
the Pope, nor in the Church, nor in the Bible. It ridi- 
cules the infallibility of the first, the despotism of the 
18 



2/4 Caxton s Book. 

second, and the chronology of the third. It is possessed 
of the very spirit of Thomas ; it must ' ' touch and handle " 
before it will believe. It questions the existence of 
spirit, because it cannot be analyzed by chemical solv- 
ents; it questions the existence of hell, because it has 
never been scorched; it questions the existence of God, 
because it has never beheld Him. 

It does, however, believe in the explosive force of 
gunpowder, in the evaporation of boiling water, in the 
head of the magnet, and in the heels of the lightnings. 
It conjugates the Latin verb invenio (to find out) 
through all its voices, moods and tenses. It invents 
ever3'tliing; from a lucifer match in the morning to 
kindle a kitchen fire, up through all the intermediate 
ranks and tiers and grades of life, to a telescope that 
spans the heavens in the evening, it recognizes no chasm 
or hiatus in its inventions. It sinks an artesian well in 
the desert of Sahara for a pitcher of water, and bores 
through the Alleghanies for a hogshead of oil. From a 
fish-hook to the Great Eastern, from a pocket deringer 
to a columbiad, from a sewing machine to a Victoria 
suspension bridge, it oscillates like a pendulum. 

Deficient in literature and art, our age surpasses all 
others in science. Knowledge has become the great 
end and aim of human life. "I want to know," is in- 
scribed as legibly on the hammer of the geologist, tlie 
crucible of the chemist, and the equatorial of the astron- 
omer, as it is upon the phiz of a regular "Down-Easter." 
Our age has inherited the chief failing of our first 
mother, and passing by the " Tree of Life in the midst 
of the Garden," we are all busil}^ engaged in mercilessly 
plundering the Tree of Knowledge of all its fruit. The 
time is rapidly approaching when no man will be con- 
sidered a gentleman who has not filed his caveat in the 
Patent Office. 



Science J Liter attire and Art, 275 

The inevitable result of this spirit of the age begins 
already to be seen. The philosophy of a cold, blank, 
calculating materialism has taken possession of all the 
avenues of learning. Epicurus is worshiped instead of 
Christ. Mammon is considered as the only true savior. 
Uum Vivimus Vivamus, is the maxim we live by, and 
the creed we die by. We are all iconoclasts. St. Paul 
has been superseded by St. Fulton; St. John by St. 
Colt; St. James by St. Morse; St. Mark by St. Maury; 
and St. Peter has surrendered his keys to that great 
incarnate representative of this age, St. Alexandre Von 
Humboldt. 




XXIV. 

THE ENROBING OF LIBERTY. 

rpHE war-drum was silent, the cannon was mute, 
-^ The sword in its scabbard lay still, 
And battle had gathered the last autumn fruit 

That crimson-dyed river and rill, 
When a Goddess came down from her mansion on high, 

To gladden the world with her smile, 
Leaving only her robes in the realm of the sky, 

That their sheen might no mortal beguile. 

As she lit on the earth she was welcomed by Peace, 

Twin sisters in Eden of yore — 
But parted forever when fetter-bound Greece 

Drove her exiled and chained from her shore; 
Never since had the angel of liberty trod 

In virginal beauty below; 
But, chased from the earth, she had mounted to God, 

Despoiled of her raiment of snow. 

Our sires gathered round her, entranced by her smile, 

Remembering the footprints of old 
She had graven on grottoes, in Scio's sweet Isle, 

Ere the doom of fair Athens was told. 
" I am naked, '\she cried; " lam homeless on earth; 

Kings, Princes, and Lords'are my foes, 
But I stand undismayed, though an orphan by birth. 

And condemned to the region of snows." 



The Enrobing of Liberty. 277 

" Hail, Liberty! liail" — our fathers exclaim — 

" To the glorious land of the West! 
With a diadem bright we will honor thy name, 

And enthrone thee America's guest; 
We will found a great nation and call it thine own, 

And erect here an altar to thee. 
Where millions shall kneel at the foot of thy throne 

And swear to forever be free !" 

Then each brought a vestment her form to enrobe, 

And screen her fair face from the sun, 
And thus she stood forth as the Queen of the globe 

When the work of our Fathers was done. 

A circlet of stars round her temples they wove. 

That gleamed like Orion's bright band. 
And an emblem of power, the eagle of Jove, 

They perched like a bolt in her hand; 
On her forehead, a scroll that contained but a line] 

Was written in letters of light. 
That our great "Constitution" forever might shine, 

A sun to illumine the night. 

Her feet were incased in broad sandals of gold. 

That riches might spring in her train; 
While a warrior's casque, with its visor uproll'd, 

Protected her tresses and brain; 
Round her waist a bright girdle of satin was bound, 

Formed of colors so blended and true. 
That when as a banner the scarf was unwound. 

It floated the " Eed, White and Blue." 

Then Liberty calm, leant on Washington's arm, 

And sjDoke in prophetical strain : 
"Columbia's proud hills I will shelter from ills, 

Whilst her valleys and mountains remain; 



278 Caxtoii s Book. 

But palsied the hand that would pillage the band 

Of sisterhood stars in my crown, 
And death to the knave whose sword would enslave, 

By striking your great charter down. 

" Your eagle shall soar this western world o'er, 

And carry the sound of my name. 
Till monarchs shall quake and^its confines forsake, 

If true to your ancestral^fame ! 
Your banner shall gleam like the polar star's beam, 

To guide through rebellion's Red sea. 
And in battle 'twill wave, both to conquer and save, 

If borne by the hands of the free !" 




XXV. 

A CAKE OF SOAP. 

"T STOOD at my washstand, one briglit sunny morn, 
-^ And gazed through the blinds at the upspringing corn, 
And mourn'd that my summers were passing- away, 
Like the dew on the meadow that morning in May. 

I seized, for an instant, the Iris-hued soap, 
That glowed in the dish, like an emblem of hope. 
And said to myself, as I melted its snows, 
"The longer I use it, the lesser it grows." 

For life, in its morn, is full freighted and gay, 
And fair as the rainbow when clouds float away; 
Sweet-scented and useful, it sheds its perfume, 
Till wasted or blasted, it melts in the tomb. 

Thus day after day, whilst we lather and scrub. 
Time wasteth and blasteth with many a rub. 
Till thinner and thinner, the soap wears away, 
And age hands us over to dust and decay. 

Oh Bessie ! dear Bess ! as I dream of thee now. 

With the spice in thy breath, and the bloom on thy brow, 

To a cake of pure Lubin thy life I compare, 

So fragrant, so fragile, and so debonair ! 

But fortune was fickle, and labor was vain. 
And want overtook us, with grief in its train. 
Till, worn out by troubles, death came in the blast; 
But thy kisses, like Lubin's, were sweet to the last ! 



XXVI. 

THE SUMMERFIELD CASE. 

THE following additional particulars, as sequel to 
the Summerfield homicide, have been furnished by 
an Auburn correspondent: 

Mr. Editor: The remarkable confession of the late 
Leonidas Parker, which appeared in your issue of the 
13th ultimo, has given rise to a series of disturbances 
in this neighborhood, which, for romantic interest and 
dow^nright depravity, have seldom been surpassed, even 
in California. Before proceeding to relate in detail the 
late transactions, allow me to remark that the wonderful 
narrative of Parker excited throughout this county sen- 
timents of the most profound and contradictory charac- 
ter. I, for one, halted between two opinions — horror 
and incredulity; and nothing but subsequent events 
could have fully satisfied me of the unquestionable 
veracity of your San Francisco correspondent, and the 
scientific authenticity of the facts related. 

The doubt with which the story was at first received 
in this community — and which found utterance in a bur- 
lesque article in an obscure countrj^ journal, the Stars 
and Stripes, of Auburn — has finally been dispelled, and 
we find ourselves forced to admit that we stand even 
now in the presence of the most alarming fate. Too 



The Summerfield Case. 281 

much credit cannot be awarded to our worthy coroner 
for the promptitude of his action, and we trust that the 
Governor of the State will not be less efficient in the 
discharge of his duty. 

[Since the above letter was written the following procla- 
mation has been issued. — P. J.] 

PROCLAMATION OF THE GOVERNOR. 
$10,000 REWARD ! 

Department of State. 

By virtue of the authority in me vested, I do hereby offer 
the above reward of ten thousand dollars, in gold coin of 
the United States, for the arrest of Bartholomew Graham, 
familiarly known as Black Bart. Said Graham is accused 
of the murder of C. P. Gillson, late of Auburn, county of 
Placer, on the 14th ultimo. He is five feet ten inches and 
a half in height, thick set, has a mustache sprinkled with 
gray, grizzled hair, clear blue eyes, walks stooping, and 
served in the late civil war, under Price and Quantrell, in 
the Confederate army. He may be lurking in some of the 
mining-camps near the foot-hills, as he was a Washoe 
teamster during the Comstock excitement. The above 
reward will be paid for him, dead or alive, as he possessed 
himself of an important secret by robbing the body of the 
late Gregory Summerfield. 

B}^ the Governor: H. G. Nicholson, 

Secretary of State. 

Given at Sacramento, this the fifth day of June, 1871. 

Our correspondent continues : 

I. am sorry to say that Sheriff Higgins has not been 
so active in the discharge of his duty as the urgency of 
the case required, but he is perhaps excusable on ac- 
count of the criminal interference of the editor above 
alluded to. But I am detaining you from more import- 
ant matters. Your Saturday's paper reached here at 4 
o'clock, Saturday, 13th May, and, as it now appears 



282 Caxtoji s Book. 

from the evidence taken before the coroner, several 
persons left Auburn on the same errand, but without 
any previous conference. Two of these were named 
respectively Charles P. Gillson and Bartholomew Gra- 
ham, or, as he was usually called, " Black Bart." 
Gillson kept a saloon at the corner of Prickly Ash 
Street and the Old Spring Koad; and Black Bart was 
in the employ of Conrad & Co., keepers of the Norfolk 
livery stable. Gillson was a son-in-law of ex-Governor 
Roberts, of Iowa, and leaves a wife and two children to 
mourn his untimely end. As for Graham, nothing cer- 
tain is known of his antecedents. It is said that he 
was engaged in the late robbery of Wells & Fargo's 
express at Grizzly Bend, and that he was an habitual 
gambler. Only one thing about him is certainly well 
known: he was a lieutenant in the Confederate army, 
and served under General Price and the outlaw Quan- 
trell. He was a man originally of fine education, 
plausible manners and good family; but strong drink 
seems early in life to have overmastered him, and left 
him but a wreck of himself. But he was not incapable 
of generous, or rather, romantic, acts; for, during the 
burning of the Putnam House, in this town, last sum- 
mer, he rescued two ladies from the flames. In so 
doing he scorched his left hand so seriously as to con- 
tract the tendons of two fingers, and this very scar may 
lead to his apprehension. There is no doubt about his 
utter desperation of character, and, if taken at all, it 
will probably be not alive. 

So much for the persons concerned in the tragedy at 
the Flat. 

Herewith I inclose copies of the testimony of the 
witnesses examined before the coroner's jury, together 
with the statement of Gillson, taken in arlicido mortis : 



The Sunimerfield Case, 28 



o 



deposition of dollie adams. 

State of Califoknia, | 
County of Placer. ) 

Said witness, being duly sworn, deposed as follows, to 
wit: My name is Dollie Adams; my age forty-seven years; 
I am the wife of Frank Gr. Adams, of this township, and 
reside on the North Fork of the American River, below 
Cape Horn, on Thompson's Flat; about one o'clock p.m., 
May 14, 1871, I left the cabin to gather wood to cook 
dinner fpr my husband and the hands at work for him on 
the claim; the trees are mostly cut away from the bottom, 
and I had to climb some distance up the mountain side 
before I could get enough to kindle the iire; I had gone 
about five hundred yards from the cabin, and was searching 
for small sticks of fallen timber, when I thought I heard 
some one groan, as if in pain; I paused and listened; the 
groaning became more distinct, and I started at once for 
the place whence the sounds proceeded; about ten steps off 
I discovered the man whose remains lie there (pointing to 
the deceased), sitting up, with his back against a big rock; 
he looked so pale that I thought him already dead, but he 
continued to moan until I reached his side; hearing me 
approach, he opened his eyes, and begged me, " For God's 
sake, give me a drop of water!" I asked him, "What 
is the matter?" He replied, "I am shot in the back." 
"Dangerously?" I demanded. "Fatally!" he faltered. 
Without waiting to question him further, I returned to the 
cabin, told Zenie — my daughter — what I had seen, and sent 
her off on a run for the men. Taking Avith me a gourd of 
water, some milk and bread — for I thought the poor gentle- 
man might be hungry and weak, as well as wounded — I 
hurried back to his side, where I remained until " father" 
— as we all call my husband — came with the men. We 
removed him as gently as we could to the cabin; then sent 
for Dr. Liebner, and nursed him until he died, yesterday, 
just at sunset. 

Question by the Coroner: Did you hear his statement, 
taken down by the Assistant District Attorney ? — A. I did. 

Q. Did you see him sign it? — A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Is this your signature thereto as witness ? — A. It is, 
sir. 

(Signed) Dollie Adams. 



284 Caxto7i s Book. 

DEPOSITION OF MISS X, V. ADAMS. 

Being first duly sworn, witness testified as follows: My 
name is Xixenia Volumnia Adams; I am the daughter of 
Frank Gr. Adams and the last witness; I reside with them 
on the Flat, and my age is eighteen years; a little past 
1 o'clock on Sunday last my mother came running into the 
house and informed me that a man was dying from a 
wound, on the side-hill, and that I must go for father and 
the boys immediately. I ran as fast as my legs would 
carry me to where they were " cleaning up," for they never 
cleaned up week-days on the Flat, and told the news; we 
all came back together and proceeded to the spot where 
the wounded man lay weltering in his blood; he was cau- 
tiously removed to the cabin, where he lingered until 
yesterday sundown, when he died. 

Question. Did he speak after he reached the cabin? 
A. He did frequently; at first with great pain, but after- 
ward more audibly and intelligibly. 

Q. What did he say? A. First, to send for Squire 
Jacobs, the Assistant District Attorney, as he had a state- 
ment to make; and some time afterward, to send for his 
wife; but we first of all sent for the doctor. 

Q. "Who was present when ha died? A. Only myself; 
he had appeared a great deal easier, and his wife had lain 
down to take a short nap, and my mother had gone to the 
spring and left me alone to watch; suddenty he lifted him- 
self spasmodically in bed, glared around wildly and mut- 
tered something inaudible; seeiug me, he cried out, " Run! 
run! run! He has it! Black Bart has got the vial! Quick! 
or he'll set the world afire ! See, he opens it! Oh, my God ! 
Look! look! look! Hold his hands! tie him! chain him 
down! Too late! too late! ohtheliames! Fire! fire! fire!" 
His tone of voice gradually strengthened until the end of 
his raving; when he cried "fire!" his eyeballs glared, his 
mouth quivered, his body convulsed, and before Mrs. Gill- 
son could reach his bedside he fell back stone dead. 

(Signed) X. V. Adams. 

The testimony of Adams corroborated in every par- 
ticular that of his wife and daughter, but set forth 
more fully the particulars of his demoniac ravings. 
He would taste nothing from a glass or bottle, but 



The Summerfield Case. 285 

shuddered whenever any article of that sort met his 
eyes. In fact, they had to remove from the room the 
cups, tumblers, and even the castors. At times he 
spoke rationally, but after the second day only in mo- 
mentary flashes of sanity. 

The deposition of the attending physician, after giv- 
ing the general facts with regard to the sickness of the 
patient and his subsequent demise, proceeded thus: 

I found the patient weak, and suffering from loss of 
blood and rest, and want of nourishment; occasionally 
sane, but for the most part flighty and in a comatose con- 
dition. The wound was an ordinary gunshot wound, 
produced most probably by the ball of a navy revolver, 
fired at the distance of ten paces. It entered the back 
near the left clavicle, beneath the scapula, close to the 
vertebrae between the intercostal spaces of the fifth and 
sixth ribs; grazing the pericardium it traversed the medi- 
astinum, barely touching the oesophagus, and vena azygos, 
but completely severing the thoracic duct, and lodging in 
the xiphoid iDortion of the sternum. Necessarily fatal, 
there was no reason, however, why the patient could not 
linger for a week or more; but it is no less certain that from 
the effect of the wound he ultimately died. I witnessed 
the execution of the jiaper shown to me — as the statement 
of deceased — at his request; and at the time of signing the 
same he was in his joerfect senses. It was taken down in 
my presence by Jacobs, the Assistant District Attorney of 
Placer County, and read over to the deceased before he 
affixed his signature. I was not present when he breathed 
his last, having been called away by my patients in the 
town of Auburn, but I reached his bedside shortly after- 
ward. In my judgment, no amount of care or medical 
attention could have prolonged his life more than a few 
days. 

(Signed) Kakl Liebner, M.D. 

The statement of the deceased was then introduced 
to the jury as follows: 



2 86 Caxton s Book. 

People of the State of Califoknia ) 

Baetholomew Graham. ) 

Statement and Dying Confession of Charles P. Gillson, taken in articxd'o 
mortis by George Simpson, Notary Public. 

On tlie morning of Sunday, the 14tli day of May, 1871, 
I left Auburn alone in search of the body of the late Greg- 
ory Summerfield, who was reported to have been pushed 
from the cars at Cape Horn, in this county, by one Leonidas 
Parker, since deceased. It was not fully light when I 
reached the track of the Central Pacific Kailroad. Having 
mined at an early day on Thompson's Flat, at the foot of 
the rocky promontory now called Cape Horn, I was familiar 
with the zigzag paths leading down that steep precipice. 
One was generally used as a descent, the other as an ascent 
from the canon below. I chose the latter, as being the 
freest from the chance of observation. It required the 
greatest caution to thread the narrow gorge; but I finally 
reached the rocky bench, about one thousand feet below 
the grade of the railroad. It was now broad daylight, and 
I commenced cautiously the search for Summerfield's body. 
There is quite a dense undergrowth of shrubs thereabouts, 
lining the interstices of the granite rocks so as to obscure 
the vision even at a short distance. Brushing aside a thick 
manzanita bush, I beheld the dead man at the same instant 
of time that another person arrived like an aj^parition upon 
the sjDot. It was Bartholomew Graham, known as "Black 
Bart." We suddenly confronted each other, the skeleton 
of Summerfield lying exactly between us. Our recognition 
was mutual. Graham advanced and I did the same; he 
stretched out his hand and we greeted one another across 
the prostrate corpse. 

Before releasing my hand. Black Bart exclaimed in a 
hoarse whisper, "Swear, Gillson, in the presence of the 
dead, that you will forever be faithful, never betray me, 
and do exactly as I bid you, as long as you live !" 

I looked him full in the eye. Fate sat there, cold and 
remorseless as stone. I hesitated; with his left hand he 
slightly raised the lappels of his coat, and grasped the 
handle of a navy revolver. 

" Swear! " again he cried. 

As I gazed, his eyeballs assumed a greenish tint, and his 



The Sunwterfield Case. 287 

brow darkened into a scowl. "As your confederate," I 
answered, "never as your slave." 

"Be it so!" was his only reply. 

The body was lying uj)on its back, with the face upwards. 
The vultures had despoiled the countenance of every ves- 
tige of flesh, and left the sockets of the eyes empty. Snow 
and ice and rain had done their work effectually upon the 
exposed surfaces of his clothing, and the eagles had feasted 
upon the entrails. But underneath, the thick beaver cloth 
had served to protect the flesh, and there were some decay- 
ing shreds left of what had once been the terrible but 
accomplished Gregory Summerfield. A glance told us all 
these things. But they did not interest me so much as 
another sj^ectacle, that almost froze my blood. In the 
skeleton gripe of the right hand, interlaced within the 
clenched bones, gleamed the wide-mouthed vial which was 
the object of our mutual visit. Graham fell upon his 
knees, and attempted to withdraw the j^rize from the grasp 
of its dead possessor. But the bones were firm, and when 
he finally succeeded in securing the bottle, by a sudden 
wrench, I heard the skeleton fingers snap like pipe-stems. 

" Hold this a moment, whilst I search the pockets," he 
commanded. 

I did as directed. 

He then turned over the corpse, and thrusting his hand 
into the inner breast-pocket, dragged out a roll of MSS., 
matted closely together and stained by the winter's rains. 
A further search eventuated in finding a roll of small gold 
coin, a set of deringer pistols, a rusted double-edged dirk, 
and a pair of silver-mounted spectacles. Hastily covering 
over the body with leaves and branches cut from the em- 
bowering shrubs, we shudderingly left the spot. 

"We slowly descended the gorge toward the banks of the 
American River, until we arrived in a small but sequestered 
thicket, where we threw ourselves upon the ground. Neither 
had spoken a word since we left the scene above described. 
Graham was the first to break the silence which to me had 
become oppressive. 

' ' Let us examine the vial and see if the contents are 
safe." 

1 drew it forth from my pocket and handed it to him. 

"Sealed hermetically, and perfectly secure," he added. 
Saying this he deliberately wrapped it up in a handkerchief 
and placed it in his bosom. 



2 88 Caxton s Book. 

"What shall we do with our prize?" I inquired. 

' ' Our prize ?" As he said this he laughed derisively, and 
cast a iuost scornful and threatening glance toward me. 

" Yes," I rejoined firmly; " ow- prize!" 

"Gillson," retorted Graham, "you must regard me as a. 
consummate simpleton, or yourself a Goliah. This bottle- 
is mine, and mine only. It is a great fortune for one, but 
of less value than a toadstool for two. I am willing to 
divide fairly. This secret would be of no service to a. 
coward. He would not dare to use it. Your share of the 
robbery of the body shall be these MSS. ; you can sell them 
to some poor devil of a printer, and pay yourself for your 
day's work." 

Saying this he threw the bundle of MSS. at my feet; but 
I disdained to touch them. Observing this, lie gathered 
them up safely and replaced them in his pocket. "As you 
are unarmed," he said, "it would not be safe for you to be 
seen in this neighborhood during daylight. We will both 
spend the night here, and just before morning return to 
Auburn. I wdll accompany you part of the distance." 

AVith the sangfroid of a perfect desperado, he then 
stretched himself out in the shadow of a small tree, drank 
deeply from a whisky flagon which he produced, and pull- 
ing his hat over his eyes, was soon asleej^ and snoring. 
It was a long time before I could believe the evidence of 
my own senses. Finally, I approached the ruffian, and 
placed my hand on his shoulder. He did not stir a muscle. 
I listened; I heard only the deep, slow breathing of pro- 
found slumber. Resolved not to be balked and defrauded 
by such a scoundrel, I stealthily withdrew the vial from his 
pocket, and sprang to my feet, jvist in time to hear the click 
of a revolver behind me. I was betrayed! I remember only 
a flash and an explosion — a deathly sensation, a whirl of the 
rocks and ti'ees about me, a hideous imprecation from the 
lips of my murderer, and I fell senseless to the earth. When 
I awoke to consciousness it was past midnight. I looked up 
at the stars, and recognized L^'ra shining full in my face. 
That constellation I knew passed the meridian at this season 
of the year after twelve o'clock, and its slow march told 2ne 
that many weary hours would intervene before daylight. 
My right arm was paralyzed, but I put forth my left, and it 
rested in a pool of my own blood. " Oh, for one drop of 
water! " I exclaimed, faintly; but only the low sighing of thor 



The Sinnmerfield Case. 289 

niglit blast responded. Again I fainted. Shortly after day- 
light I revived, and crawled to the spot where I was dis- 
covered on the next day by the kind mistress of this cabin. 
You know the rest. I accuse Bartholomew Graham of my 
assassination. I do this in the perfect possession of my 
senses, and with a full sense of my resjDonsibility to 
Almighty God. 

(Signed) C. P. Gillson. 

Gkohge Simpson, Notary Public. 

Chris. Jacobs, Assistant District Attorney. 

DoLLiE Adams, I -„r., 

Tr T \ Wituesses. 

Kael Liebnke, j 

The following is a copy of the verdict of the coroner's 
jury: 

County of Placer, \ 
Cape Horn Township, j 

In re C. P. Gillson, late of said county, deceased. 

We, the undersigned, coroner's jury, summoned in the 
foregoing case to examine into the causes of the death of 
said Gillson, do find that he came to his death at the hands 
of Bartholomew Graham, usually called " Black Bart," on 
Wednesday, the 17th May, 1871. And we further find 
said Graham guilty of murder in the first degree, and rec- 
ommend his immediate apprehension. 

(Signed) John Quillan, 

Peter MoIntyre, 
Abel George, 
Alex. Scriber, 
(CoiTect:) Wm. A, Thompson. 

Thos. J. Alwyn, 

Coroner. 

The above documents constitute the papers intro- 
duced before the coroner. Should anything of further 
interest occur, I will keep you fully advised. 

Powhattan Jones. 

Since the above was in type we have received from 
19 



290 Caxtons Book. 

our esteemed San Francisco correspondent the follow- 
ing letter : 

San Francisco, June 8, 1871. 
Mr. Editor: Ou entering- my office this morning I found 
a bundle of MSS. wbich had been thrown in at the transom 
over the door, labeled, " The Summerfield MSS." At- 
tached to them was an unsealed note from one Bartholo- 
mew Graham, in these words: 

Deab Sir: These are yours; you have earned them. I commend to 
your especial notice the one styled "i)e Mundo Comhurendo.'^ At a 
future time you may hear again from 

Bartholomew Graham. 

A casual glance at the papers convinces me that they are 
of great literary value. Summerfield' s fame never burned 
so brightly as it does over his grave. Will you publish the 
MSS.? 




XXYII. 

THE AVITOR. 

"THrUERAH for the wings that never tire— 
-^ — ^ For the nerves that never quail; 
For the heart that beats in a bosom of fire — 
For the lungs whose east-iron lobes respire 
Where the eagle's breath would fail! 

As the genii bore Aladdin away, 

In search of his j)alace fair, 
On his magical wings to the land of Cathay, 
So here I will spread out my pinions to-day 

On the cloud-borne billows of air. 

Up! up! to its home on the mountain crag, 

Where the condor builds its nest, 

I mount far fleeter than hunted stag, 

I float far higher than Switzer flag — 

Hurrah for the lightning's guest! 

Away, over steeple and cross and tower — 

Away, over river and sea; 
I spurn at my feet the tempests that lower, 
Like minions base of a vanquished power, 

And mutter their thunders at me ! 

Diablo frowns, as above him I pass. 

Still loftier heights to attain; 
Calaveras' groves are but blades of grass — 
Yosemite's sentinel peaks a mass 

Of ant-hills dotting a plain! 



292 Caxton s Book. 

Sierra Nevada's sliroud of snow, 

And Utah's desert of sand, 
Shall never again turn backward the flow 
Of that human tide which may come and go 

To the vales of the sunset land! 

"Wherever the coy earth veils her face 

"With tresses of forest hair; 
Where polar pallors her blushes efface. 
Or trojiical blooms lend her beavity and grace — 

I can flutter my plumage there ! 

Where the Amazon rolls through a mystical land- 
Where Chiapas buried her dead — 
Where Central Australian deserts expand — 
Where Africa seethes in saharas of sand — 
Even there shall my pinions spread ! 

No longer shall earth with her secrets beguile. 

For I, with undazzled eyes, 
Will trace to their sources the Niger and Nile, 
And stand without dread on the boreal isle. 

The Colon of the skies ! 

Then hurrah for the wings that never tire — 

For the sinews that never cjuail; 
For the heart that throbs in a bosom of fire — 
For the lungs whose cast-iron lobes respire 

Where the eagle's breath would fail ! 



XXVIII. 

LOST AND FOUND. 

'rpWAS eventide in Eden. The mortals stood, 

Watchful and solemn, in speechless sorrow bound. 
He was erect, defiant, and unblenched. 
Tho' fallen, free — deceived, but not undone. 
She leaned on him, and drooped her pensive brow 
In token of the character she bore — 
The world's first penilenl. Tears, gushing fast, 
Streamed from her azure eyes; and as they fled 
Bej^ond the eastern gate, where gleamed the swords 
Of guarding Cherubim, the flowers themselves 
Bent their sad heads, surcharged with dewy tears, 
Wept by the stars o'er man's immortal woe. 

Far had they wandered, slow had been the pace. 
Grief at his heart and ruin on her face. 
Ere Adam turned to contemi^late the spot 
Where Earth began, where Heaven was forgot. 
He gazed in silence, till the crystal wall 
Of Eden trembled, as though doomed to fall: 
Then bidding Eve direct her tear-dimmed eye 
To where the foliage kissed the western sky, 
They saw, with horror mingled with surprise. 
The wall, the garden, and the foliage rise! 
Slowly it mounted to the vaulted dome. 
And paused as if to beckon mortals home; 
Then, like a cloud when winds are all at rest. 
It floated gently to the distant west. 
And left behind a crimson path of light, 
By which to track the Garden in its flight! 



294 Caxton s Book. 

Day after day, the exiles wandered on, 

With eyes still fixed, whei'e Eden's smile last shone; 

Forlorn and friendless through the wilds they trod, 

Remembering Eden, but forgetting God, 

Till far across the sea-washed, arid plain, 

The billows thundered that the search was vain! 

Ah! who can tell how oft at eventide, 
When the gay west was blushing like a bride, 
Fair Eve hath whispered in her children's ear, 
" Bej'ond yon cloud will Eden reaj^pear! " 

And thus, as slow millenniums rolled away, 
Each generation, ere it turned to clay, 
Has with prophetic lore, by nature blest, 
In search of Eden wandered to the West. 

I cast my thoughts far up the stream of time. 
And catch its murmurs in my careless rhyme, 
I hear a footstep tripi^ing o'er the down: 
Behold! 'tis Athens, in her violet crown. 
In fancy now her splendors reapjDcar; 
Her fleets and phalanxes, her shield and spear; 
Her battle-fields, blest ever by the free, — 
Proud Marathon, and sad Thermopylae! 
Her poet, foremost in the ranks of fame. 
Homer! a god — but with a mortal's name; 
Historians, richest in jDrimeval lore; 
Orations, sounding yet from shore to shore ! 
Heroes and statesmen throng the enraptured gaze, 
Till glory totters 'neath her load of praise. 
Surely a clime so rich in old renown 
Could build an Eden, if not woo one down! 

Lo! Plato comes, with wisdom's scroll unfurl'd, 
The proudest gift of Athens to the world! 



Lost and Found. 29 

Wisest of mortals, say, for thou can'st tell, 

Thou, whose sweet lips the Muses loved so well, 

Was Greece the Garden that our fathers trod; 

When men, like angels, walked the earth with God? 

"Alas!" the great Philosoj)her re^^lied, 

"Though I love Athens better than a bride, 

Her laws are bloody and her children slaves; 

Her sages slumber in empoisoned graves; 

Her soil is sterile, barren are her seas; 

Eden still blooms in the Hesperides, 

Beyond the pillars of far Hercules! 

Westward, amid the ocean's blandest smile, 

Atlantis blossoms, a perennial Isle; 

A vast Republic stretching far and wide. 

Greater than Greece and Macedon beside!" 

The vision fades. Across the mental screen 
A mightier spirit stalks upon the scene; 
His tread shakes empires ancient as the sun; 
His voice resounds, and nations are undone; 
War in his tone and battle in his eye, 
The world in arms, a Roman dare defy! 
Throned on the summit of the seven hills, 
He bathes his gory heel in Tiber's rills; 
Stretches his arms across a tri^Dle zone, 
And dares be master of mankind, alone! 
All peoples send their tribute to his store; 
Wherever rivers glide or surges roar. 
Or mountains rise or desert plains exj^and, 
His minions sack and pillage every land. 
But not alone for rapine and for war 
The Roman eagle spreads his pinions far; 
He bears a sceptre in his talons strong, 
To guard the right, to rectify the wrong, 
And carries high, in his imperial beak, 
A shield armored to protect the weak. 



296 Caxtoii s Book. 

Justice and law are dropping from his wing. 
Equal alike for consul, serf or king; 
Daggers for tyrants, for patriot-heroes fame, 
Attend like menials on the Roman name ! 

Was Rome the Eden of our ancient state, 
Just in her laws, in her dominion great, 
Wise in her counsels, matchless in her worth. 
Acknowledged great proconsul of the earth? 

An eye prophetic that has read the leaves 
The sibyls scattered from their loosened sheaves, 
A bard that sang at Rome in all her pride, 
Shall give response; — let Seneca decide! 

" Beyond the rocks where Shetland's breakers roar, 

And clothe in foam the wailing, ice-bound shore, 

Within the bosom of a tranquil sea, 

Where Earth has reared her UUima Thule, 

The gorgeous West conceals a golden clime. 

The petted child, the j^aragon of Time ! 

In distant years, when Ocean's mountain wave 

Shall rock a cradle, not upheave a grave, 

When men shall walk the pathway of the brine, 

With feet as safe as Terra watches mine, 

Then shall the barriers of the Western Sea 

Despised and broken down forever be; 

Then man shall spurn old Ocean's loftiest crest, 

And tear the secret from his stormy breast!" 

Again the vision fades. Night settles down 

And shrouds the world in black Plutonian frown; 

Earth staggers on, like mourners to a tomb, 

Wi'apt in one long millennium of gloom. 

That past, the light breaks through the clouds of war, 

And drives the mists of Bigotry afar; 



Lost and Found. 297 

Amalii sees lier buried tomes unfurl'd, 
And dead Justinian rules again the world. 
The torch of Science is illumed once more; 
Adventure gazes from the surf-beat shore, 
Lifts in his arms the wave-worn Genoese, 
And hails Iberia, Mistress of the Seas! 

What cry resounds along the Western main, 
Mounts to the stars, is echoed back again. 
And wakes the voices of the startled sea, 
Dumb until now, from past eternity? 

" Land! land!" is chanted from the Pinta's deck; 

Smiling afar, a minute glory-speck, 

But grandly rising from the convex sea. 

To crown Colon with immortality, 

The Western World emerges from the wave, 

God's last asylum for the free and brave ! 

But where within this ocean-bounded clime. 

This fairest offspring of the womb of time, — 

Plato's Atlantis, risen from the sea, 

Utopia's realm, beyond old Rome's Thule, — 

Where shall we find, within this giant land. 

By blood redeemed, with Freedom's rainbow spann'd. 

The spot first trod by mortals on the earth. 

Where Adam's race was cradled into birth ? 

'Twas sought by Cortez with his warrior band, 
In realms once ruled by Montezuma's hand; 
Where the old Aztec, 'neath his hills of snow, 
Built the bright domes of silver Mexico. 
Pizarro sought it where the Inca's rod 
Proclaimed the prince half-mortal, demi-god. 
Where the mild children of unblest Peru 
Before the bloodhounds of the conqueror flew, 



298 Caxton s Book. 

And saw their country and their race undone. 

And perish 'neath the Temple of the Sun! 

De Soto sought it, with his tawny bride, 

Near where the Mississippi's waters glide. 

Beneath the ripples of whose yellow wave 

He found at last both monument and grave. 

Old Ponce de Leon, in the land of flowers. 

Searched long for Eden 'midst her groves and bowers. 

Whilst brave La Salle, where Texan prairies smile, 

Roamed westward still, to reach the happy isle. 

The Pilgrim Fathers on the Mayflower's deck. 

Fleeing beyond a tyrant's haughty beck. 

In quest of Eden, trod the rock-bound shore, 

Where bleak New England's wintry surges roar; 

Ealeigh, with glory in his eagle eye, 

Chased the lost realm beneath a Sovithern sky; 

Whilst Boone believed that Paradise was fouud 

In old Kentucky's "dark and bloody ground!" 

In vain their labors, all in \ain their toil; 
Doomed ne'er to breathe that air nor tread that soil. 
Heaven had reserved it till a race sublime 
Should launch its heroes on the wave of time ! 

Go with me now, ye Californian band. 
And gaze with wonder at your glorious land; 
Ascend the summit of yon middle chain, 
Where Mount Diablo rises from the plain, 
And cast 3'our eyes with telescopic power. 
O'er hill and forest, over field and flower. 
Behold! how free the hand of God hath roll'd 
A wave of wealth across your Laud of Gold ! 
The mountains ooze it from their swelling breast. 
The milk-white quartz displays it in her crest; 
Each tiny brook that warbles to the sea, 
Harps on its strings a golden melody; 



Lost a7id Found. 299 

Whilst the young waves are cradled on the shore 
Ou spangling pillows, stuifed with golden ore! 

Look northward! See the Sacramento glide 

Through valleys blooming like a royal bride, 

And bearing onward to the ocean's shore 

A richer freight than Arno ever bore ! 

See! also fanned by cool refreshing gales, 

Fair Petaluma and her sister vales, 

Whose fields and orchards ornament the plain 

And deluge earth with one vast sea of grain! 

Look southward! Santa Clara smiles afar, 

As in the fields of heaven, a radiant star; 

Los Angeles is laughing through her vines; 

Old Monterey sits moody midst her pines; 

Far San Diego flames her golden bow, 

And Santa Barbara sheds her fleece of snow, 

Whilst Bernardino's ever-vernal down 

Gleams like an emerald in a monarch's crown! 

Look eastward! On the plains of San Joaquin 

Ten thousand herds in dense array are seen. 

Aloft like columns propping up the skies 

The cloud-kissed groves of Calaveras rise; 

Whilst dashing downward from their dizzj^ home 

The thundering falls of Yo Semite foam ! 

Look westward! Opening on an ocean great, 

Behold the portal of the Golden Gate! 

Pillared on granite, destined e'er to stand 

The iron rampart of the sunset land! 

With rosy cheeks, fanned by the fresh sea-breeze, 

The petted child of the Pacific seas. 

See San Francisco smile ! Majestic heir 

Of all that's brave, or bountiful, or fair, 

Pride of our land, by every wave carest. 

And hailed by nations, Venice of the West! 



;oo 



Caxton s Book, 



Where then is Eden? Ah! why should I tell, 
What every eye and "bosom know so well? 
Why name the laud all other lands have blest, 
And traced for ages to the distant West ? 
Why search in vain throughout th' historic page 
For Eden's garden and the Golden Age? 
Heee, Brothers, here! no further let us roam; 
This is the Gtarden ! Eden is our Home ! 




3^77-9 



